


Echoing Souls

by like-waves-on-the-beach (alliecameron)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Swan Big Bang 2017, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2018-12-20 15:36:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 144,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11923941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alliecameron/pseuds/like-waves-on-the-beach
Summary: Young Professor Swan leads a quiet but hectic life as the newest member of the Anthropology Department at University of Maine at Storybrooke, as well as being head curator for the University’s brand new museum. Killian Jones is a hardened detective who forms one half of the best homicide team in the small city of Storybrooke. When tragedy strikes, Emma and Killian find themselves thrust together, each feeling an inexplicable and frustrating attraction to the other. As the young couple works to find answers to the mystery that will take them on a journey together, they will also explore their undeniable chemistry and connection. Sometimes the universe has plans wherein the past, present, and future converge to assure that destiny is reached in every life.





	1. Beware the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Shipmates, here is my contribution to CaptainSwan BigBang 2017
> 
> First off, special thanks to @ilovemesomekillianjones for supporting me through this adventure and for always having the right words when I have struggled.
> 
> Artwork has been created by swanemma and jenswan for this story. 
> 
> Will also be posted on FFN and AO3

** Chapter 1 Beware the Dark **

Emma Swan rounded the corner of the hall, taking the short flight of stairs down into the converted basement offices. Even the addition of new lighting and carpeting couldn't disguise that it was still a basement. Someday, maybe she would graduate to an upstairs office with a window, but right now the basement office was the place to be.

Stopping on her way to her office at the end of the hall, she opened the TA's lounge to see if her personal assistant was anywhere in sight. Seeing the small brunette sitting at a table with a few other graduate students, Emma entered the room and poured herself a cup of the worst coffee that Storybrooke had to offer.

"Belle, did the shipment arrive yet?" Emma tried not to notice how a few of the students jumped up when she entered and started grabbing their books. This University wasn't a happy one. The departments were fragmented and at war, and the Department Head was a first-class jerk.

"Oh no, not yet, Emma...um...Professor Swan!" Emma smiled at Belle's lapse in using her name and then calling her professor. It really didn't matter to her, but ‘The Powers That Be’ had sent out another memo last week reminding all Department Heads that a certain amount of professional decorum needed to be maintained at all times between faculty, staff, the underpaid student workers, and the students themselves.

The University of Maine at Storybrooke literally sucked ever since the dumb-ass Professor of Modern Linguistics, Gerald Tiny was undisputedly caught pants down with his dick doing the happy dance in a co-ed's mouth. Yeah, life really sucked in Storybrooke. But honestly, Gerald Tiny? The name was its own disclaimer for a well-balanced life. The man was doomed from the get-go. What were his parents thinking? Her friend, Tink, yes, she was actually called Tinkerbell, in the History Department, told her the name "Tiny" was very appropriate, that the descriptive properties were well deserved. Personally, Emma didn't want to touch that with a ten-foot stick.

Emma quickly swallowed the cup of sludge disguised as coffee and thanked Belle before she left the room. It didn't seem fair to disrupt the haven the TA's had by hanging out in their room. It was hard not to miss the fun of listening to their discussions, and it wasn't like she was so much older than the rest of them. In truth, since most of them were graduate students, and she had just finished her master’s degree last fall before accepting this position as an Assistant Professor, she was actually the same age as some, and even younger than others. But somehow, at twenty-six she felt so much older when she was around them, and way too young at other times around other professors.

It would've been a nice distraction to discuss Gerald Tiny's _tiny_ member or how it was hardly a mouthful, but no! She was forced to discuss it with the other professors in the staff lounge in a quiet, dignified manner. Thank goodness for Tink! Last night they had gone out for a movie and dinner, and talked about the tiniest endowment in the history of UM Storybrooke. Honestly, it must have been a man that said it wasn't the size that counted, but what they did with it! But, if a man thought "making love" was sticking it in, wiggling it all about, doing the hokey pokey and pulling out, then a few extraneous inches could actually go far to smooth some of the insult and injury. Or at the very least, give a girl something to talk about on the next girls' night out.

 _Oh yeah, he was a speed demon with a three minute record to break, but man you just had to check out the size of his schlong_ , Emma thought as she started to sing "Where Have all the Real Men Gone?" borrowing from the Paula Cole classic, while stooping to pick up the usual pile of messages shoved under her door by frantic students, abound with excuses or requests. She started to toss them on her desk when she noticed the _space was_ covered in unfinished work, class notes, grade books, unmarked blue books, and unread essays threatening to grow legs and walk away. If she tossed the messages on her desk now, in the state it was in, chances of ever finding them again was roughly spring of next year. Oh, well... Emma tossed them anyway because the floor looked just as bad.

"Oh god, this can't be right!" Emma stuck her head back outside her office and read her name on the door. Dammit, The Project (not to be said in lowercase) was an unwieldy, jealous lover sucking all her free time down a vortex.

The Project was her nemesis, the bane of her existence. It was the outfitting and creation of a specialty museum for both the Anthropology and History Departments to display and manage their growing collections of artifacts. The State Antiquities Board, a subdivision of the Board of Regents, authorized the creation of an Anthropology and Historical Museum and Archaeological Institution at the University, and it was Emma's worst nightmare. As the youngest and newest member to the Anthropology teaching staff, and a doctoral candidate, somehow she found herself volunteered to supervise the creation and outfitting of the new museum.

It had been an eight month nightmare, full of building codes, reconstruction and renovation of a historical building on campus, the fight for office space within the building itself by various departments, the fight for display space, the building of dioramas and interactive displays for the young visitors, and the creation of a research library to house a collection of journals and books. The displays and construction were done, but the arrival of the collections, both artifacts and books, was creating havoc. Emma had a full staff of researchers and students furiously cataloguing and recording all the collections as they were slowly placed in display cases.

The problems started with the decrepit building, the large white elephant they tried to tear down, to have a bright new building put in its place. But no, the city's biggest wacko came with protesters, posters, media coverage, and chains, demanding the building be saved, and registered in a historical registry as a preserved building in Maine. Sure, Emma could have cursed the organizer who started all the trouble, or even threatened her with bodily harm, okay she did threaten her, but it was all in a moment of extreme pressure. The University community looked on in horror as the political warfare raged for months, until finally they caved and decided to preserve the fine piece of heritage and give it a new purpose. Storybrooke's wacko walked away happy, feeling she had accomplished her goal. Of course, Emma had to call the wacko _Mom,_ so her dealings with the moral crusader were never over.

Then there were the fights with the building inspectors holding special regulations and codes for historical buildings-- again, Mom's fault. Then, once the building was finally renovated and up to code, the real fun began. Every department with space in the museum had ideas, endless ideas for displays, interactive educational dioramas. All those suggestions were deposited on Emma's desk, as the happy requesters walked away knowing they were getting what they wanted, while leaving the actual physical work to Emma.

So, looking at her overly cluttered desk, at the stacks of work, which needed to be done yesterday, Emma psyched herself up for yet another all-night session. Sex? Did people still stay up all night having sex, or something even possibly resembling a real life? Emma couldn't say. That seemed like something that happened on television or maybe the movies, but surely not real life? She vaguely remembered staying up all night with a boyfriend engaging in not the best of sex, but what was lacking in quality made up in quantity.

She couldn't even remember her last boyfriend's name. Maybe Wally? No. Walter? No, it was Sam. Okay, how the heck did she go from Wally to Sam? No, that wasn't right either. Surely he had a name, or even a face. Maybe she would someday go home to her apartment, walk in and find her last boyfriend was still there, but now had moved in his new wife and children. He waited so long for her to get back to him that he forgot the place wasn't his. Bastard. Dammit, she was beginning to envy Gerard Tiny with his tiny dick, because at least it was getting some action!

Belle came up behind her boss and friend with a look of concern. Emma was talking to herself with an occasional "Bastard!" coming out of her mouth. She just stood there in her office, gesticulating wildly and incoherently, making a few obscene gestures to increase the effectiveness of her seemingly angry rant.

"Emma? Are you okay?"

"No! It's still here! All of it's still here! I've worked every night for the last two weeks to get caught up in my class work, and the pile actually looks bigger!" Emma turned to look at Belle in horror. "I think I'm de-evolving. Someday you'll come in and see a puddle of primordial ooze and say good morning to it." Emma's voice changed to have a perky high squeaky sound to it, "My, Professor Swan, that puke green shade of ooze is so becoming on you. I brought you a cup of complex amino acids." Emma spied a cup in Belle's hand, and a gleam of interest, no, lust entered her eyes. "Is that coffee? Like real coffee, not the crap from the lounge."

Belle looked down at what she had, quickly putting it behind her back. "No, of course not, it's...um...spit. Nasty, very vile stuff." No way she was going to give the deranged woman in front of her more caffeine. No, the only thing that would help her now wasn't more stimulation, but Prozac-a lot of Prozac. "It's not that bad," she added, her blue eyes scanning the mess of Emma’s office.

Emma turned glassy eyes on Belle, eyes that hadn't seen more than a few hours of sleep in over two weeks, with a look of disbelief.

Belle quickly became silent again. Okay, maybe that wasn't the right thing to say. Emma circled the room gesturing to piles of books on the floor reaching upward to the ceiling, the piles of papers covering every available space, and then her desk, a.k.a the Helldesk

"Belle, not bad? You're saying this isn't bad?" Emma suddenly spied something against her far wall.

Belle almost had a heart attack at the scream coming from Emma's mouth.

"What the hell is that?"

Belle followed her pointing finger, and gave a groan. Changing her mind, Belle calmly handed the cup of coffee to Emma, she steered the young woman to her office chair. "It's a few deliveries for the museum. They showed up late Friday."

Emma was drinking the coffee like it was a lifeline, holding it cupped in her hands. "No. No-no. No! NO! I told them! I told the mailroom to send all deliveries to the museum, not here." It had taken her over two months, and numerous football players from her classes to get all the misdirected deliveries out of her office. After that, she had to flirt and schmooze the cute mail coordinator, Dickie, with offers of dinner and perhaps numerous acts of fellatio, to get the delivery problems fixed. Oh, dammit, she must have forgotten to follow through! Sighing, Emma looked down at her daily calendar, something that would have to be fixed later. "Okay, let's just not worry about it any longer, but if any more deliveries come for the museum, refuse them. Send them back to the mailroom and let them sort out the mistakes. Now we're going to need more coffee and some space, because today we're going to clear my desk off. I've a class at ten and another at three. So, let's get to work."

~*~

It wasn't there. All the packages had been rifled, opened, searched, and it wasn't there. Moving through the lightless rooms, the dark figure searched every corner and every office hoping to find it, finally giving up because time was too short. It was the flickering of light down the hall that had the figure slinking into the shadows. The night guard was too early. Without the formal alarm system in place, the security service was forced to send guards on patrol. Taking the flashlight in hand, and waiting for the guard to come closer, the figure prepared to remove the problem so the rest of the place could be searched without incident.

~*~

The older man looked up from his work at the figure in the doorway, startled to be interrupted so late at night. "Oh, it's you." He quickly got up and closed the door behind the figure. "Are you crazy? What if someone saw you? I told you to never come here."

"It wasn't there."

"Yes, it is. I saw the invoices." The old man paused, realizing what the missing item meant. "What did you do?"

"I searched for it, and it wasn't there." The figure loomed menacingly over the older man. "I searched everything."

"You only had a ten minute window before security did their rounds." The sweat broke out on his head as the older man reached for his cup of coffee trying to quell the rising fear.

"Things were done. It happened, but I couldn't find it, and I can't go back," the gloved hands came down on the table, "so that leaves you. You've got to find it and bring it to me. If you fail, I can't tell you how unhappy it'll make me." And as the dark figure moved out of the office and merged into the surrounding night, fear was a legacy left behind.

~*~

Emma tried to juggle her coffee, book bag, purse, and an armful of papers while opening the doors to the museum. Today she was blissfully free of classes, and her poor neglected students knew to look for her here. Not that many of them were stupid enough to come to the museum. It was a known fact that entering those hallowed halls might mean being roped into doing some type of manual labor.

It was surprising that Sean, the security guard, wasn't there to open the door for her. He was usually waiting for her, but not today. Entering the building, it felt too quiet, but then again, first thing in the morning it frequently did. Taking her stuff slowly to her museum office with the title of curator on the door, Emma was happy to unload her burden. Her office here was almost as bad as her office in the Anthropology building with the saving grace of being large, airy, and having a beautiful window. It seemed messier than usual...

Emma backed out of the room, looking it over with pensive eyes, trying to reconstruct how it looked last time she locked the door. It felt wrong, just wrong. For the first time since entering the building, it’s silence was causing the hair on her neck to stand up.

Cautiously walking down the hall, she slowly looked around corners and down a long silent corridor into the main cathedral room. Walking to the nearest sectional, the Egyptian Kingdom, Emma stopped in the doorway. It was trashed. All the boxes were opened, contents poured out. Stepping back, Emma slowly moved further down the hall to the next room, the Peruvian Pre-Columbian Textiles. It too was trashed. All the textiles, thousands of years old, were dumped on the floor without care, piles of them discarded. Emma would have had a holy fit, if it weren't for the shoe she saw as she backed out of the room. Swallowing her fear, she slowly walked towards the shoe, and rounding the crates, she found Sean.

~*~

 _Aye, come to Storybrooke, small city with little to no crime! It'll be good for you! Right._ Killian Jones looked around the corner of the building he was leaning up against. There he was, Isaac Heller. Looking back beside him at this partner, he smirked when he saw David Nolan brushing at his jeans, trying to get the crud of the building off him.

"That's him. Let's go partner." Killian took off, confident that David would be right on his heel. They had been partners for two years, but friends for longer than that. Crossing the street, Killian came up fast behind Isaac, and took him by his left arm while David took the right one.

"Hey, Isaac, thought I told you to leave this life, mate," Killian smirked as the man looked at him and his eyes widened.

"Jones, I swear man, I'm clean! So clean! I don't got a scratch on me, not even a sniff!" Isaac started to sweat in the cool morning air.

David scoffed at his side, like they were going to believe that.

"Isaac... Isaac... you should know better than to lie to my partner. Jones hasn't even had his morning coffee and donut, and you know how he gets!"

Isaac looked at the brooding man to his left and moved closer to David.

"Nolan, ya have to square it for me! Tell your partner that I'm so clean. Yeah, like totally pure and razor, mate!"

David just shook his head and tsked at the obvious lie. A reliable source told them that Isaac was back on the streets dealing in illegal trade for drops of smack, and he was dealing on the side.

Killian turned and looked at the smaller man, appearing about thirty years older than his twenty-seven years. "Isaac, you're going to make me hurt you before breakfast, aren't you? Get in the bloody car!" Killian pushed Isaac into the backseat of David's black SUV.  "Dave, hit a drive thru, I hate doing early morning torture on an empty stomach."

Both David and Killian kept facing forward with smiles on their faces at the gasping from the backseat.

A few hours later, after leaving Isaac sweating in the interrogation room, Killian went to report to the Captain. Nemo was a fair man, headstrong and tough, but fair. Killian liked Nemo, who was helping to restore his faith in commanders, after his own departure from the British police force, some years ago.

He knocked quickly before entering. "Hey, Cap, Isaac dropped a dime on Gold."

Nemo looked up from his manpower reports and looked over the scruffy half of his best detective team. Years ago, when his father was Sheriff of Storybrooke, they didn't need a Major Crimes Unit, Vice, or any of the other departments. Instead they had a large department that did everything. But times changed, and so did Storybrooke. The once small town of fisherman and nature lovers had given over to families and businesses. Storybrooke was far enough from the rat race of the larger cities of Portland, Bangor, and Augusta, to give a warm small town feel, but was still large enough to be classed as a city and accommodate crime.

The addition of the University to the town had increased its population a few years back, but with the increase came crime. They were forced to boost the staffing of their departments and recruited detectives from the larger cities. Finding the investigation team of Jones and Nolan was almost a godsend. At first Jones was a questionable addition, having been a transfer from the UK to work with the Boston Police Department, but he proved to be more than just a little astute and effective, and he was Nemo's best detective with Nolan a close second. The team of Nolan and Jones had the best and cleanest arrest record in the Department. Literally, Killian Jones, the man, scared the crap out of most people. It wasn't just his menacing stare, or even his demeanor, but a darkness that seemed to live on his face, like a void lacking in emotions that sent criminals and personages of dubious character begging to confess.

"How much did he give us?" Nemo stood to join Killian, looking for his other half. "Can we take him out?"

"He gave us the current location, and the next meeting time. Tomorrow night, after midnight. Gold himself is supposed to be there." Killian scratched his eyebrow. "David is putting Isaac on ice. We don't want him to run at the mouth until then."

"Okay, but get a team on Isaac. That weasel can slip out of a vice grip if he smells cheese."

Killian smiled at that, Isaac was nothing if not slippery. "Can do, Cap." Killian looked around the squad room, his eyes landing on the Captain's son, Liam. "How about Liam and Grumpy?"

"Done." Nemo went to the door and yelled, "Liam! You and Leroy, NOW!"

Killian leaned against the door smiling to himself, _this should be fun_ , he thought.

David walked toward Killian following his glance towards Liam. _Poor guy._ He was shaping up into a good detective, but he was partnerless, so he invariably got stuck with Hanson, who wasn't good in any way shape or form.

It was tough being the Captain's son, Liam didn’t want any favoritism, he needed to prove to the rest of the squad he could do his job without the helping hand of his father.  

Killian liked the young lad, he reminded him of his own older brother, also called Liam.

"Was that really necessary?" David asked Killian, as he watched Liam walk towards them with an unhappy scowl on his face.

"Shush, mate. This should be good!"

"You're a cruel bastard," David smirked and waited for the fun to begin.

"I am," Killian agreed. “Hey Liam, where's your happy partner?"

"He's not my partner. Man this sucks big..." Liam knew that as long as he didn't have an assigned partner he would be saddled with Leroy, known affectionately as Grumpy. His last partner, Greyson LeGume, was killed in the line of duty over a year ago, and at first he didn't want a new partner. Now he would settle for anyone, as long as it wasn't Grumpy. "Why do I get stuck with him? Man, he smells like frozen fish and bacon bits, and the other day he had an overwhelming  _fume de' odor_  of pork rinds."

David joined Killian lounging against the wall.

"Liam, for the good of the department, you're required to get your stinky partner to bathe. We've got a bust tomorrow and at this rate they'll smell us coming. It's your duty to the brotherhood. No wonder they call us Pigs when we have ‘Pigpen’ himself in residence," Killian groused.

"A bust? What's going down?" Liam quickly looked in at his father reading another report. "Am I in on it?"

"Nope, you and Grumpy get to babysit Isaac the Snitch. Have fun." Both Killian and David walked away before Liam could protest. They lied. They would make sure Liam was with them for the action, but it was too good watching his crestfallen look, the stream of swearing under his breath, and the pissed off look he gave his doofus of a partner, Grumpy. The entire team took Liam under their wing when Greyson took the fatal bullet. Liam was lost for almost a year, and was just finally coming out of it. Greyson took the bullet to save Liam's life, because what hit Greyson mid-heart would have hit Liam between the eyes. And for Liam, it was a difficult thing to live with.

David understood more than anyone. When they lived in Boston and he was a patrolman in blues, Killian had been in Vice, on loan from Scotland Yard in London. They had been acquaintances after an incident involving David’s sister, but in truth, from the moment they met, it was like they knew each other. Just knew. A few months later Killian suffered a great loss and he spiraled out of control; angry at the world, he took an undercover assignment with Vice and David hardly saw him. While working deep undercover he saved David’s life, took a bullet for him and jeopardized his cover, and that action sealed their friendship. After Killian recovered from the near fatal injury, he was back on the streets, living in the sewers like the street people. It took over two years of friendship, and finally getting his gold shield, to give David the leverage to talk Killian in off the street. But it was years too late. What Killian had lived through during vice scarred him for life. It made him. Created him

"Jones! Nolan!" They both looked back at the Captain's door. "I've got a new one for you. Patrol is already on the scene, so I need you there five minutes ago."

David ran over to grab the report from Nemo, scanning it. A murder at the University. Lovely, just lovely.

Nemo grabbed David before he could take off after Killian already at the elevators, "Keep him from killing anyone."

David smiled knowing that might be impossible, "Aye-aye, Cap!"

~*~

"I don't know why you always get to drive," Killian complained as he watched the scenery pass at a speed far under what he would've driven. He was exercising selective memory, because he knew exactly why he couldn't drive, but just wanted to bitch a little. "You drove last week."

"Yeah, and I'm driving next week, until you finish those classes," David spared Killian a quick glance, "plus, I love arriving in one piece."

Killian snorted at the criticism to his driving. They got there didn't they, and in a timely manner?

"You're just jealous because I hold the fastest time for the obstacle course." Killian didn't mention that he also had the best shooting scores too, because somehow being a crack shot and putting holes in dead center didn't seem like something to brag about.

"Killian, the driving course is supposed to teach you to avoid disaster, not plow through it." David knew Killian liked driving, and he knew his own driving irritated his partner to no end. "Listen, finish the anger management classes and the P.D. will okay you to drive again."

"This is bullshit, I didn't run the guy over, I _nudged_ him."

"Killian!" David wasn't going to get into the incident again. Killian was caught in a battle of road rage a few months back and the other driver threatened a lawsuit, so the P.D. legal department demanded Killian take anger management classes and driving lessons before he could operate a departmental vehicle, or even a personal one, during working hours. "You only have six more hours. Finish it, and we can close the door on this." David looked over at the stubborn look on Killian's face, and sighed. The man was an immovable object.

~*~

By the time they hit the scene, patrol cars were already blocking off the front entrance. David frowned at a uniform officer talking to Campus Security. "Officer, what's going on here?" David asked, looking at the gathering crowd, and campus security walking in and out of the building. "This building should've been shut down. You and your partner move the crowd back another three feet, and shoot anyone trying to enter the building without my permission, unless they've got an official Storybrooke P.D. badge. Do I make myself clear?" David made his voice loud enough to cause the pushing crowd to automatically move back.

Killian looked around, and then at Campus Security. "Who's this?" his eyes narrowed at the blustering demeanor of the man, as he stood in the patrolman's face.

"I'm Chief of Campus Security, and I demand to see the officer in charge. I've got people that need in this building, and your officer is keeping everyone out. I’ve already had five professors complain."

"Only five?" Killian shrugged. That wasn't so bad. Smiling ironically, he bet he could make it around an even dozen in the next few hours. "No one gets into the building until Detective Nolan, or I, give the okay. The only people allowed to pass are support team and the medical examiner’s office. Understood? Mr....um, yeah..." Killian waved off the man's name as unimportant.

"Peabody, Officer Peabody," the man tried to hold his ground and authority, "and you are?"

"Right." Killian moved in closer, getting into the security officer's face. "Detective Killian Jones, and I'm in charge here, so don't piss in my pond." His voice didn't rise once, just became darker and darker, edged in ice. The patrolman started pulling at his collar and sweating. "If anyone should get in without my okay, I'll hold you personally responsible for contaminating a crime scene, and you won't find being booked by me a pleasant experience. Do I make myself clear?" Killian allowed space for the man to swallow and back up, nodding his understanding. "Now get behind the yellow tape. We'll bring you a report, and find you when we need information, otherwise get off my crime scene." David followed Killian into the building. As Killian cornered another officer. "Call the station for a damn liaison officer, otherwise I'm going to be taking more anger management classes. And who was the first officer on the scene?" Killian was mentally patting himself on the back. He hadn't raised his voice once so far.

They followed the officer's pointing finger to a young-looking patrolman, barely looked old enough to be out of the academy. David rushed ahead of Killian to talk to the young man, as Killian started walking the scene, noticing the open crates, the tossed materials, and finally the dead body of the campus security guard. He really couldn't blame the Chief of Campus Security's actions. It was devastating to lose one of their own. It became so personal.

After talking to the young man, and then excusing him to go back to headquarters to file his report, David went to find Killian. "Killian, the person to find the body is in the back office waiting to be questioned. She found him early this morning, about an hour and a half ago. Campus security was called first. They sent over a team, and then called the P.D."

"Yeah, I got that. There're enough bloody footprints all over the sodding place, and ten bucks if that body wasn't moved. Bloody hell, we only got the call twenty minutes ago, and you don't drive that slow!"

"Campus Rent-a-Cops called the Chancellor and the Deans of the University, who in turn called the Board of Regents. We didn't figure that high on the list of people needing to know." David winced at the stream of obscenities coming out of Killian's mouth. _Damn, he could cuss a blue streak!_ David held out his hand, as Killian passed him a few bucks. Killian's campaign to clean up his language was the final task he needed to complete his anger management training, and so far, he was failing miserably. Thank god it was a self-assigned task and not part of the course or Killian would never finish the classes.

Finally, the lab boys showed up to process the crime scene. Philip, the medical examiner, took a quick look around before addressing the detectives. "This site is a sorry one, boys. Who moved the body?"

Killian and David shared a look, both had yet to determine that.

"Well, we'll do a standard sweep, but there're so many prints all over the place it's going to be challenging to determine what was here before, and what was added by people trampling over the crime scene."

"How long, Philip?" Killian saw a uniformed officer gesturing for him. Giving him a quick acknowledgement, he looked back at the examiner. "When can you tell us the cause of death?"

"Oh, I can tell you that right now, unofficially, of course. Trauma by blunt instrument to the head, and time of death approximately midnight last night, but I'll see if I can pinpoint a more specific time for ya."

"Thanks, Philip. Hey, how is Aurora?" David asked as Killian nodded and walked off to talk to the officer.

"She's fine, Nolan, not that it's any of your business. Stay away from my sister. You and Jones are walking nightmares to the female population of Storybrooke." Philip picked up his equipment. "Half the population are trying to get Jones's attention, and the other half are chasing after you. Can't figure it out myself, you're both losers."

David laughed as Philip walked away. Unfortunately, it was true. Neither he nor Killian had much luck in relationships. Killian's last one ended over a year ago and he hadn't bothered to replace her, couldn't remember her name, and it took over three months before he realized she was gone, along with his entire apartment. Guess she figured he owed her. And as for David, he didn't know what was wrong with him, but every woman he met he found something wrong with her. It was like he was waiting for someone who never came.

David looked around for his partner and found him deep in conversation with the officer. Moving towards them, he went to do damage control. Killian's body was tightening up, signaling his irritation. "Hey, what's up?" David looked at the uncomfortable officer and discreetly motioned for him to scram. "What's going on?"

"Our primary witness, the woman who found the body took off. She told the officer she needed to go, and just like that, he escorted her out of the building." Killian's jaw clenched. "He walked out my witness before I released her from questioning."

"Calm down Killian. Did she immediately move to another state or something?"

"No, but now we'll have to hunt her down," Killian crushed a paper he held in his hand, "and, it's not like we aren't already busy enough. I've got the uniforms taking down all the names and arranging fingerprinting for all the museum staff, and idiots who crushed my scene."

"So, who are we looking for?"

Killian reluctantly opened the paper he just crushed. The officer walked her out? Walked her out? People were on his crime scene hours before he was called. What the hell was going on? "A Professor Emma Swan, and according to this, she is an assistant professor with the Anthropology Department." Great. Just great. They'd probably find an old senile woman, half buried under a layer of dust and grime, whose hearing aid needed new batteries. "They store her in the basement!"

~*~

The voice that told them to enter was muffled, and decidedly not old sounding. The room was – well, it was covered in books and papers, some of the stacks reaching for the ceiling, and appearing alarmingly unstable. The room also had artifacts, pottery, tapestries, and paintings hanging on the walls, or blanketing every surface. Overall, the room was impressively cluttered and disorganized.

"Can I help you?" The soft voice came from behind a stack to their right as they entered the room.

"Professor Swan?" David asked, moving forward to let Killian into the room. Killian's presence was dominating, and looking at the impressive display of disorder, he seemed to suck up what remaining space there was in the room.

"Yes..." Emma moved from behind the stacks to come in view, "I'm Professor Swan." The woman holding her arms wrapped around her body stood behind her desk facing them.

Neither man spoke for a second, letting the shock of her appearance wash over them. She was delicate, young, beautiful, and her voice was soft. But her eyes held them pinned. Her vivid green eyes with golden flakes flashed across the room, looking more alive and intense than anything David could remember seeing. In a room covered in dust from dead ancient societies, this woman breathed life. David felt an overwhelming instinct to protect her, to comfort her, and perhaps, maybe help her sit. The soft growl coming from Killian's mouth suggested he was feeling something too, something that irritated him to no end.

"I'm sorry," Emma moved forward, frowning at the two men who seemed to take up all the remaining air in her office, "did you need something?"

Killian casually opened his badge to show her his shield, David quickly doing the same.

"Oh, yes, the Pigs. I was expecting you." Emma’s hand shot to her mouth in shock, as both David and Killian stood straighter at the reference. "Oh god, I said that out loud!" Suddenly the woman started laughing as if her mirth was uncontainable, falling back in her chair with her hands covering her face, her body began to shake.

"If you're finished, lass?" Killian’s irritation was evident in his voice as it raised a level, but it was David's hand on his arm that made him stop, as he tried to advance into the room.

"Killian," David warned him as he nodded his head in the young woman's direction, "she's not laughing."

Killian looked closer. No, she wasn't. She was crying, her body racked with sobs, and as swiftly as his anger had risen, it subsided. Her tearful sobs knocked the wind out of his sails, and suddenly the room was too small, too cluttered, and his feet too big. He moved back and forth uneasily, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

David moved towards the woman, grabbing a tissue from a box he spied on a shelf. "Ma'am?" He handed her the tissue. There was something about this woman, something that made tears from her seem almost an outrage, a violation.

Emma took the proffered tissue, and turning her back on them, tried to gain some control. She was mortified. Crying never came easy to her over the years, the only tears she could remember were ones of anger, so the wave of weakness that washed over her body was unwelcome. It was their fault, no doubt about it. She had stood in her office holding herself together just fine until they interrupted. But somehow seeing them so big and silent in front of her, holding their badges up made it all come back. _Oh, poor Sean, poor gentle Sean! He deserved so much more than that!_ Taking a deep breath, she turned back to face them.

"I'm sorry, it's just... Sean... he was a nice man, a nice young man with a wife and small daughter." Emma quickly tossed the tissue and looked at the two men in anger. "I sat there for _hours_ , as people walked in and out, sometimes asking me questions, but no one took care of Sean. He was left lying there, like some kind of museum display, to be looked at, poked and prodded, and it seemed..." Emma paused, searching for the right word, "disrespectful. I couldn't stay there any longer. I'm sorry, but the policeman was kind enough to escort me out."

Killian's eyes narrowed at that. Oh, aye, he had a few choice words for that patrolman later. He finally addressed the woman, and his voice was biting, "Don't you mean, Pig?"

Her sudden hysteria had actually pissed him off more, not because she was laughing at the reference to calling a police officer a "Pig", but because the sound disturbed him, and he didn't like being disturbed. David quickly looked at his partner's reaction, confused that he seemed so angry.

"Sorry," her voice having a singsong quality to it, "I can't believe I said that, that I let it slip out like that." Emma wiped her eyes again. "My mother was and is a throwback from the sixties, which is funny considering she never participated in the countercultures, too young. Anyway, she spent her life protesting this and that, 'Those Pigs oppress!' 'Pigs this…Pigs that...', so that must have slipped. Sorry." Emma smiled, blaming her mother again. "The strange thing is, and in a fit of supreme justice, she is dating a cop now, actually engaged." Emma knew she was rambling, but she couldn’t seem to stop.

"Professor, we've got a few questions, and need to your statement," David smiled, liking this woman. It was Jones who bothered him. Killian was shifting on his feet, and David's partner instincts were cluing him in that his partner was far from happy.

"Of course, please have a seat."

Killian quickly looked around at the chaos, "Where exactly?"

"Oh," Emma looked at the chairs piled with books and paper, "right you are."

She rushed around her desk and cleared a chair for David, gesturing for him to sit as she looked around for a place to put the pile, finally just sitting it on the floor next to his chair. Then, clearing one for Killian, she moved to put the pile down, but he was standing in her way. Putting her shoulder into him, she tried to shift him back a pace so she could place the pile on the floor. He stood, unmoving. Looking up at him for the first time, their eyes locked.

David watched them in shock as the room took on an electrical intensity, a look of stubborn determination came over the young woman's face, while his partner's face remained closed and unyielding. They were locked in a silent combat, too instinctive for David to understand, but before he could warn his partner off, a wicked smile came across Emma's face. She just shrugged and dropped the books on Killian's feet. Ignoring the yelp, she quickly returned to her seat behind the desk and inclined her head towards David to continue his questioning.

"Detectives?"

"Yes, sorry," David frowned at his partner and started asking the questions, taking notes. He started to worry about Killian's uncharacteristic silence. Of the two of them, Killian was the senior partner and senior investigator. He had years of field work beyond David. But he was--dammit--he was sulking! "If you could just start with the events of the morning leading up to finding the body?"

"Sean."

David looked at her politely, but confused.

"He's not 'The Body'--his name was Sean Herman." Emma shifted in her chair holding onto her emotions. A name was sacred, sometimes all a person had when there was nothing left. She refused to cry again, and the larger man's dark demeanor was succeeding in both angering her and helping her to retain some control.

"I found him this morning around six thirty. I work at the museum on Tuesdays because I'm not scheduled to teach. Sean typically waits at the doors to open them for me because I'm generally carrying too much stuff, but this morning he wasn't there."

Killian looked at her as she gave her statement. It didn't surprise him, somehow he had no doubt she had few problems getting men to fetch and carry for her, or even walk her out of a crime scene. Looking at his partner who seemed intent on being gentle and nice to her, David seemed to be falling under the same deadly charm. They were big men, tall and imposing, but somehow, from the moment she stepped out from behind the stacks, her smaller body seemed to take up all the room. She wasn't imposing like them; no, she was more deadly than that; she was charismatic.

"I went to my office, but somehow it seemed different. Wrong. Even the building when I entered seemed silent. Which is strange because I'm usually the first there, so it's often silent. This was different, cold, unyielding, and it made me pause." David nodded. He knew what she meant. It was the silence of death, a feeling like the very warmth of the air had been sucked from the room, and it was the same silence associated with funerals. "I noticed that my office was wrong, but I couldn't tell why, just that it was. I walked out into the cathedral area and entered the Egyptian room first. Someone had rifled through the crates and boxes, and had tossed priceless artifacts on the ground like they were nothing more than worthless junk. I then proceeded to the Peruvian displays, and when I saw the textiles tossed about, I was angry, but before I could leave the room, I saw Sean's shoe on the floor hidden behind the crate."

"What then, Professor?" David paused from his notes when she stopped telling her story.

"Emma, please call me Emma." Emma quickly pressed a number on her phone and talked to a woman's voice. "Cleo, could you have someone bring three cups of coffee to my office? Have them bring some sugar and cream as well." She looked over at the two. "Sorry, I really need something to fortify me. I saw the shoe and walked around the crate, and there he was, lying on the floor, face down with blood on the back of his skull." There was a knock at the door, and a pretty, brunette woman stuck her head in carefully carrying three cups of coffee. David quickly stood and helped her, by taking two of the cups, and handing one to Killian. "Thank you, Belle," Emma said, as Belle quickly handed David stirring rods, cream, and sugar, shutting the door behind her.

"Did you move or touch the body?" Emma bristled at Killian's question, abrupt and almost accusatory.

"No, I did not. His skull was crushed, and there were no signs of breathing." Emma took a large drink of her coffee. "What I did, Detective, was back out of the room, and call Campus Security."

"Why not 911, and the police station directly?" Killian was still pissed at how long it took for them to finally be called in.

"Truthfully? I was afraid. The place was too cold, too quiet, and it felt wrong." Emma took another sip of her coffee, watching both the detectives finally drink some of theirs after doctoring it with cream and sugar. "Campus Security seemed like my best bet to getting someone there immediately. I didn't know if the person who did this was still in the building, but at six thirty in the morning, it's not like the entire campus is bustling with activity, so I went to my office, locked the door, and made the call, and then waited."

Killian nodded, seeing her point, as he took a drink of the hot liquid. _Bloody hell!_ He almost spat the stuff out. Looking at the woman, he could see a gleam of amusement in her eyes. The coffee was awful. Actually, awful didn't even compare to what this black sludge was, and since P.D. coffee was reputed to be the worst ever concocted, this stuff was impressive. And then she took another drink, almost daring him to finish his cup.

David, not involved in the silent pissing match, discreetly looked for a place to put his cup. This crap could burn a hole into a gut.

"Chicory," she said, and both men looked at her in confusion. "The coffee has fresh chicory added, and it's made by one of our Peruvian archaeologists. No one can figure out why he does this to lifesaving coffee beans, but one thing is consistent- this coffee kills."

"Why drink it then?" David asked, curious why an entire department would continue to drink something so vile.

"Are you kidding?" Emma smiled at him. "One cup of this would fuel the lights of this city for a day. It's a pick-me-up purer than intravenously administered caffeine. When we want real coffee, the English department is next door, they make those gourmet flavored coffees like Crème de Mint or French Vanilla. But this stuff, it's like liquid life."

David had to agree. He only stomached one sip and his head was buzzing, but looking at his partner, he was worried because Killian seemed determined to finish the cup. Great. He was going to have a wired partner for the rest of the day. Maybe they could get a thermos of the stuff for their stakeout tomorrow night.

They continued to question her, until finally there seemed little else to know. David's beeper went off, looking at the number, he quickly dialed the number on his cell. Killian watched the professor watching him. She wasn't arrogant, rude, or in any way offensive, but for some reason she put him on edge. Her very presence seemed like a challenge, a large one. He watched her hands wrap around the coffee cup, as her eyes stared him down. Those hands, they were long and delicate, yet firm and strong. Shaking himself from groaning, he quickly broke eye contact with her, which pissed him off even more, and looked at David.

"What's up?"

"Philip is done with the scene, and they're transporting the body. Also, our liaison officer is on scene," David couldn't help but smile, "and Killian, it's Ruby." David looked down to hide a smile as Killian swore under his breath.

Killian calmly reached into his pocket and peeled off a twenty from a small wad of bills and pushed it into David's pocket. Ruby made him curse a blue streak, so he would owe this sooner or later.

"Professor, would you accompany us to the crime scene? We had questions about the crates and packaging."

Emma nodded and stood to follow the detectives back to the museum. She noticed a tall woman wandering around the scene talking loudly, at a mile a minute, her brunette hair, with red streaks running it, cascaded in curly waves down her back. Next to her, the detective, Jones, seemed to bristle. Looking at David, he just shrugged.

Killian seemed to speed up and confront the woman, as Emma and David hung back, watching. Finally, curiosity was too great to ignore. "What's the story?" Nodding her head at the two figures exchanging heated words.

"A long sad one. Ruby is a forensic officer with specialties in communication, so she does liaison work, to smooth things over when we've got conflicting departments, or in this case the Campus cops versus City. Basically, her job is to keep the rental cops out of our hair, but Ruby usually takes it a step further. She wanted to be a detective, and she's smart. But she was unable to pass the physical exam, so she was never given the opportunity to become a detective, and had to choose another field."

"I still don't get it, why are they fighting?" Emma asked, watching Jones clench his fist as he leaned down and talked directly into the woman's face, cold and menacing.

"Well, Ruby has a habit of butting in to our investigations, withholding valuable evidence, pursuing the information herself. In the last year, we’ve had to save her about eight times," David winced as the discussion heated enough to reach their ears. "Killian doesn't tolerate interference. Anything that disturbs the investigation bothers him. He is very determined to protect and serve the victim, and sometimes people like Ruby, or Campus Police who trample the scene and destroy the evidence, make it tougher for him to do his job. To serve those who can no longer take care of themselves."

"I see," Emma frowned, "but their argument seems more personal."

"Oh, it's that all right. When Killian first met Ruby, he was sort of attracted to her," David tried not to notice that Emma's back stiffened at that news. "But it took maybe five minutes for his attraction to change to full scale dislike. Ruby, being a woman, and easy on the eyes, recognized the attraction, and basically has been trying to capitalize on it ever since. But she doesn't realize that her hold is gone. She has trapped Killian in elevators, the parking garage, even invaded his home a few times. It's been interesting."

"I can imagine." They watched as the woman stalked away to go talk to the Chief of Campus Security, Peabody. They joined Killian.

"Told her to do her job, huh?" David asked as Killian nodded, his eyes still slanted and deadly.

"Like it will matter. She'll still be in the thick of it, mucking it up in about two seconds." Without thinking, Killian reached down and took Emma's arm to lead her into the museum. He felt her, the feel of her arm, the heat of her body, and his hand tingled almost like an electrical current ran from her body to his. He wanted to move the material covering her arm and touch her skin, but before he could, she shook off his hand and proceeded into the museum.

Emma rushed ahead of them, her heart pounding in her chest, her arm still feeling his touch. _Great! Just Great!_ Sexual awareness of the big, mean detective. _See?_ This is what happens when life gets too hectic and sex becomes only a distant memory. Big volatile men with pissy attitudes, unbelievably blue eyes, totally kissable lips, and hands that could cause orgasms just by looking at them, actually start to look edible. _Outrageous! Totally, unacceptably outrageous_! Emma entered the museum, and then stopped sharply, a gasp of anger and dismay escaped her. Dogs and men were all over the place, sifting through the crates, the artifacts. "What the hell is going on?!" Emma advanced on a group of men, her hands clenched. "Stop! Put that down, you idiots!" She grabbed a funeral urn from one man's hand, and shoved another officer away from a bundled burial shroud.

"Professor..." David backed up when she turned to face him. The lines of anger on her face, the flashing of her eyes, the coiled tightness of her body, made it apparent that confronting her, getting in her way wouldn't be a healthy thing.

"Didn't the murderer do enough damage? Do you feel the need to finish the job?" Emma placed the funeral urn down with extreme care. "Some of these artifacts are over five thousand years old. They can't just be touched, searched, and tossed without heed. The collections are in my care. My responsibility!"

"Emma, we've got to search the area. The man who did this was looking for something, and obviously, the security guard interrupted him. Now a lot of these crates come from Central and South American countries. The narcotics dogs are merely smelling for hidden stashes,” David reasoned.

"Drugs? You think this is about drugs?" Emma looked at the chaos, all the work she and her staff had worked so meticulously on for months, destroyed. "I understand what you're saying, but it doesn't have to be drugs. Some of these pieces are priceless, or they were until you and your ham-handed thugs tore through them. We've worked hard here, cataloguing all the artifacts, and look at this mess! This museum is scheduled to open in six months," Emma’s voice became louder to emphasize the gravity of the situation, "six months, and this puts us behind."

"A man was murdered," Killian said equally loud.

Emma turned on him like a bull terrier, "I know that! I found him! But how do you expect to find drugs in a room full of artifacts from places that used cocoa leaves, opiates, and other natural fibers and plants in their textiles, or residuals in cooking ware? Your dogs are going to sniff out the hemp fibers woven into that blanket, or the opiate paste used to coat the inside of that bag." Emma put her hands on her hips. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"You could chew on some of this crap and get high?" Killian put up his hands defensively at her exasperated screaming. "I know, I know. The stuff will have to be gone over individually, piece by piece, and the dogs are just going to rip apart your artifacts for no reason."

"Yeah."

David cringed at the dripping sarcasm in her tone.

"I suggest that you clear my staff to return, to pick up the pieces, and sort through what's here, and what's missing. This might be something more than drugs, and until I can check the invoices against the inventory, I can't tell you if something has been taken."

David and Killian looked at each other, recognizing the reasoning behind her statement. This was going to take time. David sighed and pulled out his phone to call the Captain.

"Okay, we'll have some officers and forensic lab boys assigned to you, to help your people clear this mess and quickly catalogue the artifacts. That way if there's anything, such as drugs or contraband, they'll be here to take control of it immediately."

Emma opened her mouth to comment, but he rudely put up his hand to stop her.

"And that's the only way I'll open up this crime scene to let your people back in."

"I was going to say, thank you," Emma said irritably, more than a little ticked off that his rude, nasty self was even more attractive than his moody, brooding self. God, she needed therapy! Surely her damn insurance plan provided mental care?

"I can help."

They both turned to look at the curly headed woman that Killian had words with earlier. Killian frowned, but had to admit that Ruby was a perfect choice, given that she was already assigned to the case, and her job was to liaison between the P.D. staff and the University. "I've got to be here anyway, so I might as well lend a hand."

"Okay, Lucas, you stay, but if I suspect you're hindering, or in any way suppressing evidence, so you can hot dog it, I'll bury you. Do you understand?" Killian could feel Emma's eyes watching him closely.

"Yeah, whatever. I got it." The woman turned and smiled at Emma, shaking her hand. "Ruby Lucas, it's a pleasure to work with you. I love ancient history, it's sort of a hobby of mine."

"Lucas, you'll not be in charge down here," Killian felt it necessary to clarify that, since Ruby tended to overstep her authority. "You'll report to the senior forensic staff on site, and otherwise to me or Nolan directly." He muffled a nasty remark when she just nodded and rolled her eyes.

Emma quickly stepped in between them and gently tried to remove her hand from the woman's grasp. When Ruby and Detective Jones started their latest altercation, the young woman's grasp tightened and almost crushed Emma's hand. "Um, could I have my hand back? I sort of need it to do some work."

The woman started and quickly released Emma’s hand. Killian noticed Emma's grimace straight away and snatched her hand to ascertain the damage, if any, cursing under his breath.

Emma tried to snatch her hand back, but Killian refused to give up his hold. “Let me just check it,” he demanded, his voice harsh.

“It’s fine,” Emma rushed out, again trying to remove her hand form his grasp.

“Try something new, darling. It’s called trust.”

“What? Now you’re a gentleman?”

Unable to stop himself, he winked at her. “I’m always a gentleman.”

Emma snatched her hand from his and hid it behind her back giving it a shake to relieve the pain. "It's fine." _Seriously! Now he’s flirting? And why the hell does he have to have a British accent._ Yep, it was official. The Gods were not smiling on her today.

She quickly turned to Ruby, and smiled. "Detective, if you..."

"Officer," Killian butted in, and Emma noticed the young woman's face turning red, as anger flushed her cheeks.

"Right, Officer, Ruby? If you would follow me, we'll set up. I'll see if I can locate my staff and get us some food and coffee."

Killian called after them as they walked away, "I would give the coffee a hard pass." Both women ignored him as David came up next to him.

"Cap is assigning some team members. He wants us downtown immediately." The two headed out. "Hey, I saw this great film once called _Curse of the Mummy's Tomb_."

"That's a classic."

"I know. And this is kind of like that. Artifacts everywhere, burial urns, dead bodies, and a rampaging Mummy." It had to be one of the best B-rate black and white horror flicks ever made.

"I'm not putting out a BOLO on a Mummy," Killian said as he and David both laughed. "But a rogue Mummy could be cool if it took out Ruby." They both continued to laugh on their way to the car.

It wasn't until they were almost back to the precinct that David felt compelled to ask. "So Killian, what's with all the wood?" He felt his partner going stiff next to him, not that it was a new condition. He had been walking around hard since meeting the lovely Professor.

"No clue." Killian looked out the window hoping David would drop it, but since part of being a detective was getting to the crux of things, he doubted it.

"Looks like the lady has an effect on you." David almost bit his lip to keep from laughing at Killian's expression. What the hell was that? Dismay? Denial? Anger? Or just raging lust?

"Yeah, she affects me, or at least part of me." Killian ran his hands over his face in a moment of shocking honesty. "I can't even say why, but there's something about her, obviously, she’s attractive, but there’s something damn annoying, too."

David laughed at the confusion in Killian's voice. This was going to be interesting. Literally, in the last two years absolutely nothing and no one could rock Killian's silent dark world he seemed to live in. Vice and living on the street did so much damage that Killian didn't let people in. Not really. And most of the time, he just ignored them or wrote them off as unimportant. It explained his failed relationships, and the fact that he couldn't even remember his last girlfriend's name. Nothing touched him, nothing but the injustice of the dead and the pain of the victims, otherwise he remained an untouchable.

"Well, hope we don't run into Grumpy. I'm sure the man is gay, and has a crush on you. He might take what you're sporting as an invitation or a come-on." David laughed even harder at the nasty look Killian sent his way.

"Chuckles, David. You're a riot. A real laugh a minute." Killian decided it was time to get some of his own back. "I think we should stop at forensics and see if there's any news from the crime scene materials. Hey, maybe Mouse is working."

David squirmed in his seat and shot Killian an equally nasty look. It was impossible to defend yourself against men who could read emotions and expressions so easily. "Don't call her that. Mary Margaret is a perfectly wonderful woman, and there's nothing mouselike about her." David was irritated that Killian was able to make him defend himself all the time, and defend the Chief Manager of the Forensic Science Labs.

"You mean, other than the fact she scurries around the precinct like a puff of wind would blow her over, or a harsh word would crush her, hiding in shadows like a timid non-descript mouse?" Killian knew his description would piss David off, and set him on a tirade effectively making him forget to torment Killian over the pain in the ass professor.

"She is not nondescript. She’s kind, and beautiful, and has incredible eyes, and is lovely." David turned in his seat eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring. "So she's a little quiet, and likes to work in the lab, what's it to you? What did she ever do to you?"

Killian just smirked and tuned David's rant out as they pulled into the parking garage. The rant continued through the garage, in the elevator, down the hall, and up until the moment they opened the door to the lab. Suddenly, David lost his ability to complete a sentence.

"Blanchard, got anything on the morning stiff, Herman?" Killian put his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his feet, as the young woman looked at him, then looked at his partner. A pink tinge colored her cheeks and she quickly ducked her head to hide her face.

"Not much. The evidence was flimsy, too many feet and hands mucking up the physical evidence. I have over thirty different hair samples, and Cap will eat me for breakfast if I run them all. The DNA analysis alone would wipe out my monthly budget." Mary Margaret looked up through her lashes, and said in a shy voice. "Hi, David."

David stammered on his feet, shuffled a little and quickly said a hello before looking around the room.

Killian just rolled his eyes and prepared his teeth to be set on edge as he asked Blanchard more questions. In truth, Mary Margaret didn’t irritate him, it was this strange dance she was doing with his partner that pissed him of. She liked David, David liked her, to Killian that was all they needed in the equation that led to them getting horizontal. But no, they liked to play around pretend nothing was going on, and that was what he found irritating. Sometimes he had to stop himself from grabbing one of them and shaking the stupid out of them.

"Blanchard, I think it's time for you to leave the nest. I'm going to request that you be assigned to my team," Killian said, ignoring both David and Mary Margaret's reactions. "I need someone who is fast and efficient, not afraid to get their hands dirty running the crime scene with Professor Swan, someone who'll record and document everything. I'm sure you'll find Professor Swan interesting, if not colorful. She has a huge deadline, and lost months worth of work today, so I think your efficient ways would be a benefit to her."

Mary Margaret felt anger at his words, but kept her thoughts to herself, as always. She glanced at David once before looking back at the more menacing detective. Killian shrugged, annoyed, and headed for the door with David following. He could feel the anger coming off his partner in waves, but chose to ignore it. "By the way, one member of your team will be Ruby Lucas, and she's already on site." Killian didn't even bother to wait for Mary Margaret's reaction.

Once the detectives had left her lab, Mary Margaret breathed easy. "Dammit!" she muttered. Looking at the instrument in her hand, she contemplated shoving it up Jones's ass, but in truth, it wouldn't have room with that stick that was permanently lodged there. _Ruby? What was worse? Being stuck working shoulder to shoulder with Jones and Nolan, or having to deal with Ruby Lucas?_ Dammit, could her life get any worse?

"You're a real prick, Killian! You didn't have to be so mean to her. What did Mary Margaret ever do to you, except exist?"

Killian just shrugged. In his book, a wasted chance at some woman loving was almost a felony.

As they headed up the stairs Killian finally got tired of listening to David.

"You could try thanking me, mate," Killian cut into David’s lecture, not bothering to look over at the surprised look on David's face, the look of astonishment. "Yes, I said thanking me. For almost a year, bloody hell, more than a year, you've been mooning over Mary Margaret Blanchard, shuffling your feet like a schoolboy with his first crush. Then, you pursue and nail every other female in sight, trying to convince yourself that you're not interested, but then what happens, David? Then you dump them. You dump them because they don't fit or they're not right. So maybe Mary Margaret is right? Maybe you'll spend the rest of your life wondering, as you fuck every table leg that walks by, while she hides in a lab gathering dust with all those little mouse-like eggs going to waste. Or maybe this investigation will get her out of the mothballs, give her a taste of real air, and you and she can finally overcome the painful shyness, and fuck like real adults." With that Killian went through the stairwell door into the squad room leaving a quiet, and shocked David standing in thoughtful silence. Boy, when Jones wanted to rant, he did a fine job!

~*~

 


	2. Its All About Who You Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments on the first chapter. I'm super glad you seemed to have enjoyed it. I hope that continues.   
> Huge thanks as always to ilovemesomekillianjones for her outstanding work of beta-ing everything I create. You're awesome!

**Chapter 2: It’s All About Who You Know**

"Hey, Jones, I ran the people from the university for ya. A few had records, but nothing interesting, just the usual speeding tickets and moving violations, except one." Leroy was flipping through the file looking for the unusual one. "Yeah, Emma Swan, she has an impressive sheet."

Both Killian and David paused in their tracks. They were so used to ignoring Grumpy that it was shocking when he had something to contribute to the case. Killian quickly snatched the file from his hand and both he and David scanned it.

"Grumpy, call an officer on the scene at the university and have them transport the Professor here. Put her in interrogation room one when she arrives." Killian looked at David and grimaced. He missed it. Nothing in her manner, or about her, tripped off his usual alert senses that she could be a deviant. Killian swore under his breath and tossed a dollar at David. He’d let his attraction to her blind him. Thinking with his little head obviously left him unaware of her possible personality faults, but he couldn't imagine what David's excuse was.

She had been in the station for over ten minutes before Killian and David even bothered to go talk to her. They went into the backroom and observed her from the behind the two-way glass. Strange, but the woman appeared to be napping. Killian pushed David aside and left to enter the room, slapping the file against his leg.

"Professor?"

Emma looked up at the irritable one. Lord, he looked good enough to lick - all over. The other was chocolate box pretty, but this one was exotic chocolate, totally fuckable. Emma shook herself out of her thoughts and reminded herself that she was pissed at them picking her up off the street without a word. "Emma. I told you to call me Emma."

"Okay, _Emma_." Bloody hell, her eyes darkened when she was tired and angry! Killian cleared his throat. "Perhaps you could talk to us about your record."

"Which record would that be?" Emma sat up straighter in her seat, her eyes becoming weary. "My dental record, academic record, or perhaps my driving record? Could you be more specific, Detective? I'm a busy woman. I've got little to no time to deal with slapstick, paltry _Pig_ tactics, so if you need to pull out the nightstick I suggest you do it now." Emma cocked her head to one side but refused to let her vision waiver or back down.

"How about your arrest record?" Killian clenched his hands and cursed his body as it responded to her attitude. Her deep, angry voice was making his toes curl.

"Oh, that..." Emma rubbed her forehead. Dammit, she was getting a migraine, and at this rate she'd have little to no option but to go home and sleep it off. "Who's your commanding officer?" Emma looked at both David and Killian's frowns as they tried to understand what relevance that had to their questions. "Is it Captain Dak Nemo?" They both reluctantly nodded. "Good, I refuse to answer any questions without your Captain being present, so scurry off and find him." Emma watched as an angry hue moved over Killian's face. "And I take my coffee black!"

Killian leaned up against the wall and watched her. He could see the headache move into her eyes, how her forehead wrinkled as she tried to adjust to the light, and part of him felt bad he was adding to the stress of it, but another part was intrigued to see how far, and how much, he could affect her. So, they remained patient and quiet, staring each other down, until her eyes finally broke. But instead of relief, he felt uncomfortable. He watched her eyes slowly course down his body, occasionally pausing to take account, and then continue. When she was eye-leveled to his groin, she stopped and just stared. It was like her stare was touching him, stroking his body, slowly and with delicate care. And when he thought he couldn't get more aroused, her tongue came out and licked her lips.

It was Liam walking down the hall, and looking into the open door of the interrogation room that stopped Killian from losing control, moving across the room, and picking up Emma to push her hard against the wall and crush her under his body. Liam found a way to throw cold water on the entire situation.

"Emma!" Liam came into the room and tossed his file on the table, sitting his ass down on the edge next to her, he reached down and kissed her on the lips. "What the hell are you doing hanging out at the P.D.? Not that Major Crimes couldn't use the decoration." Liam heard a noise behind him and looked over at Killian. "Hey, Jones, don't tell me you were keeping this lovely lady to yourself." Liam ignored the angry explanation from Killian and turned back to Emma. "So, Dollface, you coming to Sunday dinner, or do I have to babysit the old ones alone?"

Killian took it back; he didn’t like Liam. Though in that moment, the lad reminded him even more of his older brother. Always pushing in on matters that don’t concern him.

"Sorry, Liam, but I think the Detective has plans to tie me up on Sunday." Emma looked pointedly at Killian when she said that. Liam looked between the two of them, seeing sparks, major sparks, and something else. Before he could comment, Nemo and David came back into the room, with David a few steps behind carrying a cup of coffee, black.

"Emma!" Nemo went to the woman and picked her up out the chair in a large bear hug. "Hey honey, it's about time you came to see me! You've missed every Sunday dinner for the last two months, and you know that's not allowed."

"Actually, Dak, I'm afraid this isn't a social call." Emma motioned towards both David and Killian. Nemo looked at his two detectives, and then back at Emma. "Oh lord, what now? Where is she? Do they still have her in holding or are they processing her?"

Killian and David were clueless. Who the hell was 'she' and why did their witness have more friends and acquaintances in the department than they did. "Captain, we brought Professor Swan for some standard questioning about her record, and in conjunction with the murder case at the university." Killian handed Nemo Emma's sheet.

"Damn, I forgot I was going to take care of some of this stuff." Nemo looked up at Emma. "Sorry, I meant to have it removed, but somehow I got busy." Dak went down the long list of previous arrests, with no convictions. "Strange, I think you've got a longer sheet than most in prison and almost all of it's because of your mom. So, this has nothing to do with her, right?"

"Well, technically, no. Unless you count the murder of the guard, Sean Herman, happening in a newly renovated building saved by Ingrid Arden. If I had my new building like I wanted, then my security system would have already been installed and there wouldn't have been any reason to have a night guard patrolling the halls." Emma saw David slowly put the coffee on the table and smiled her thanks as she picked it up and took a sip. _Okay, not as vile as the Anthropology Department's coffee, but a close second._

Nemo looked at his men knowing how this looked, how the long report looked, and how it discredited Emma. "I think I can explain most of these charges." Nemo looked down at the first one listed. "Chicago? Was that during the protest against coloring the water green for St. Patrick's Day or the Haymarket Reunion?"

"I think the first one is probably the Haymarket Massacre Anniversary, and technically all I did was make an overweight Irish Cop run down a street. But, of course, mom did more. She locked hands with other protesters and sat down in a wonderful display of civil disobedience, resulting in the lot of us taking a ride in the paddy-wagons." Emma took another drink. "I think the federal charges for trespassing and destruction of military property, with an intent of treason, is the best.” Emma took a sip of coffee and then pointed a finger at Dak in thought. “Though technically they said we had to cross the river before they arrested us, and mom only got to the middle of the river before I caught up with her. I always thought it was the wet t-shirts and the lack of bras that made them decide to add us to the rest. Mom was thrilled."

Both Killian and David listened to her explain away every charge one by one, with _Mom_ being the cause of most the trouble. Both Nemo men just nodded their heads in total understanding. Finally, Dak looked over to his two detectives. "You gentlemen probably remember Emma's mother? Ingrid Arden?" Both shook their heads no, until Dak decided to remind them. "She's the woman who chained herself to the Sergeant's front desk two months ago to protest prisoner conditions in our holding cells." Both men suddenly remembered the woman, but she hardly looked old enough to have a twenty-six year old university professor for a daughter.

"Aye, I remember that head case." Killian barely paused when he saw Liam giving him a high sign to cut it off, shaking his head violently.

"That would be the one." Nemo helped Emma to stand, putting his arm around her shoulder to lead her out of the interrogation room. "My fiancée." Emma just smirked at Killian and when Nemo wasn't looking, she rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him.

"Wait," Killian grabbed the folder back and scanned the sheet again, "what about this one. Arrested in a raid of a 'house of ill repute' in New Orleans?"

Emma casually looked over his hand to read the sheet, too. "Oh, that one is mine." And with a smile she left the room with Dak. They looked at each other as they heard her ask what was on the menu for Sunday dinner.

Nemo ordered David and Killian to give Emma a lift home since she was picked up in a squad car. None of them talked along the way, but occasionally a moan and groan would come from the back seat.

"Cut it out" Killian said refusing to look back at her. "We're not letting you cop a plea of police brutality."

"Oh bite me. I've got a humdinger of a migraine coming on, my life is too damn stressful, and today I found a dead body, so flip off!" Emma spotted the turn off for her condo. Oh, thank god, it had been weeks since she was home, really home. Over the last two weeks the best she did was open the door, walk straight into her bedroom, fall fast asleep, wake up to shower, feed the cat, and rush out the door.

Emma was surprised when the two detectives followed her to her door. Opening it and walking in, she started to turn around and thank them for the ride before slamming the door in their faces, but the state of her home stopped her. There were dishes piled up in the sink, clothes everywhere, empty beer cans, and stacks of empty pizza boxes. It was so late when she came home, and still dark when she left that morning, that she never noticed. Picking up a pair of kitchen tongs, she walked around the place expressing her displeasure and disbelief.

Killian just assumed that the place was a wreck normally. After seeing her office, both of them, the disaster in the museum, it wasn't difficult to imagine this was her normal mode of housekeeping. It was her cursing that began when she slowly stood up from a crouched position holding a pair of men's underwear in her tongs that clenched it. This wasn't how she left her place. Emma looked over and saw a man's leather jacket draped across the back of the sofa, and a look of horror crossed her face.

Rushing to the phone, she dialed a number and waited. When the person on the other line picked up, Emma began to whine. "No, absolutely not. I won't have it! I won't have him in my house. You've got to take him back."

Both Killian and David could hear a woman's voice on the other end screeching, "Emma, is that you? I can't hear you! It must be the line..." followed by the sounds of the other phone banging against something.

"You can't do this to me. I won't allow it." Emma winced at the banging and continued to scream into the phone. "You're not fooling anyone. Now, come get him before I do something you’ll regret!" The phone on the other end went dead, and all they could hear was a dial tone.

All the screaming must have wakened the dead, because the door under the stairs leading up to the loft space suddenly opened and out walked a man, about six feet tall, well-built with unruly dark brown hair. The man was dressed in only a pair of skimpy tiger print briefs, scratching his stomach below his navel, and in his other hand was a gun. It was the gun that alerted Killian and David. Both, almost in tandem, drew their weapons as the man became aware of them and lifted his to cover them. Emma screamed and stepped back from the three men all facing each other with weapons drawn.

"Wait! Wait, okay? Calm down! Calm down!" Emma slowly insinuated herself between them backing herself up against the nearly naked man, and pushing his gun arm down, while keeping her other hand up, looking at both David and Killian. Killian growled under his breath as the man's other hand, the one that had been scratching his stomach, came out to circle around Emma's waist. Killian's eyes narrowed as he targeted a place between the man's beady eyes. "Let's just take a calming breath and release some of the testosterone. It's not going to look good if you shoot my friend in my condo just for being a Pig, breaking and entering, and committing an act of fashion death by wearing those briefs."

Both Killian and David began to relax as the word friend registered. Slowly, they lowered their guns, as Emma spun around on her heel, and reached up to slap the man upside his head. "Do you have to act like the pig you are? Look at this place? What were you thinking? How did you get in?" Emma looked at her best friend, her hands coming to rest on her hips. "You picked the lock, didn't you? Didn't you?" August finally nodded his head in agreement. Yeah, so he picked the lock. "I should have these detectives arrest you for breaking and entering." Emma rushed off up the stairs pointing her finger menacingly. "But lucky for you, I'm sick of police and police stations, I've got the monster of all headaches, and I'm going to take a bath. So..." pausing on the steps leading upward to her loft bedroom, "if you know what's good for you, you'll restore some order to my home, take out the garbage, pick up your dirty clothes, and do the damn dishes before I get back." With that, Emma went up the stairs and they could hear drawers slamming.

Suddenly she was back by the upper railing, looking down at them wearing nothing but an open robe with only a bra and panties under it. Killian couldn't stop staring at her body as she suddenly pointed a finger at her friend. "Where the hell is my cat?" And against his will Killian groaned aloud when she gathered her robe and tied the sash. "You better find Mr. Booboo, or there'll be hell to pay!" And she was gone again, with just the sounds of a shower starting.

David gave a low long whistle under his breath, and Killian could only agree. What a hell of a woman!

Pushing his hands through his hair and looking at the room around him, August had to admit, Emma was right. He had totally trashed her place. Giving the other two men a sheepish grin, he held out his hand. "August Booth. Vice. Most call me Gus." Killian knew the name as did David. They quickly introduced themselves. Neither had ever met the man, but his reputation was well known. They watched him go to the living room and pick up a shirt, smell it and put it on, and then a pair of jeans leaving them unbuttoned and unzipped. Going back into the kitchen, August looked at the mess and shook his head. Suddenly there was a soft meow, as a skinny calico striped cat emerged from under the leather sofa.

"Oh, thank god, there you are! One problem solved." August took out a can of cat food and looked for a dish to put it in, but everything was dirty and piled up in the sink. Shrugging he opened the can and before David could stop him, poured the contents out on the countertop as the cat jumped up and began to eat. "So why were you escorting Emma home?" August turned dark serious eyes on them, and just as fast his face shuddered and became even more dangerous, "Did something happen? Did someone hurt her?"

David quickly intervened. "No, no she's fine."

August nodded his head as he grabbed two garbage bags. "So why are you escorting her home?" When suddenly a thought occurred to him. "Oh god, not Ingrid again? What did she do this time?"

David laughed at the expression on August's face. God, he had to meet this Ingrid person. "No, the Captain had us bring Emma home. Actually, she discovered a dead body in her museum this morning, the security guard, Sean Herman."

August stopped what he was doing. "You're shitting me?" Both men remained stone faced, "Okay, you talk while I clean."

When Emma finally emerged from the nether regions of the upstairs, she was surprised to see the team of Jones and Nolan still in her condo. The place was surprisingly cleaner than before, and David was finishing the dishes as Killian vacuumed and August picked up dirty laundry and trash. Killian out and out refused to pick up another man's dirty underwear. Stopping at the foot of the stairs her eyes lit on the cat eating off the countertop, but just sighed. At least he was picking up some of the damage.

"Why are they still here?" she asked the room.

The men turned to look at Emma, and August's eyes narrowed as he noticed Killian checking out his best friend, and even David was pretty attentive. His sense of outrage continued when he took in what Emma was wearing. The t-shirt was okay except it was about six years old and about two sizes too small, and she wasn't wearing a bra. The shorts were an old pair of jean cut-offs, totally scandalous in that there were more holes than jeans, and the combination left a good portion of her midriff bare.

"We just ordered lunch, lass. Pizza," Killian offered, unable take his eyes off her. He frowned when he noticed the pain in her eyes. "You still have the headache? Maybe you should lie down or something. We can call you when the pizza gets here." David looked at Killian sharply. It wasn't that Killian was heartless and uncaring, but he rarely took time to notice anyone except the very young, the very old, or those he wished to know in a carnal way. Everyone else was pushed into victims or the ignored category.

"I'm fine. A nap can wait until you leave." Emma looked at her friend. "So how long have I been your hostess?" August had the nerve to smile at her with a twinkle in his eye. "August W. Booth?"

"About two weeks." August laughed at her astonished look as her mouth dropped open. "No, you aren't that unobservant. It's just you've been busy, sleeping in your office most nights, and with me working nights and you at school during the days, we didn't overlap much."

"I should have you arrested, or something." Emma sighed, knowing she wasn’t going to get away with just sending him back to couch surfing with her mom. "You need to go home to your place. I thought they would fix it."

"Well, that's the problem. The owner decided that he would rather tear the place down than put up more slum units. Nowadays you can't even find a good slum landlord." August stacked up the last of the garbage bags to be taken out by the door.

Killian heard the doorbell, and passed David some cash as he went to answer it and get the pizza. "So why did you have to leave, was the place not regulation or something?" Killian looked at Emma as she snorted and went to find paper plates and napkins.

"No, it was blown up." August took the pizza box from an astounded David's hand and opened it to grab a slice. Emma looked over his shoulder and noticed that the pizza was the hearty man's meaty feast. Dammit, what was wrong with a few veggies, or maybe just an olive or two? Taking a slice, she ate, dipping the crust into a pile of ranch dressing she’d added to her plate. "My next-door neighbor, stupid fuck, was running a meth lab. Imagine the balls, or stupidity a person must have, to run a drug shake and bake factory next door to a cop. A vice cop. The crazy bastard blew himself up and a good portion of the building."

Killian's eyebrow went up at the story. He was busy eating another piece of pizza when Emma got up and went into the kitchen. Retrieving two glasses, a carton of milk, and two beers she came back to sit down. Killian watched her, he couldn't stop. She filled and spilled out of those shorts nicely. Real nicely. The surprise came when she put a glass in front of him and David and poured them each a glass of milk, and then passed August a beer, and opened a beer for herself.

"I wouldn't have minded a beer," Killian said looking down at the glass of milk.

She finally looked at him and smiled. "You're on duty, Detective. Gus has a few hours before he's on the clock." And she picked up her beer and continued to drink it with a small smile around her mouth, well aware he was watching her every move. He watched the movement of the golden liquid down the glass as she tipped the bottle, the flexing of her throat as she swallowed, and the moisture left on her upper lip. Studying him closely, she licked her lips and smiled to herself when she heard him gulp. Looking over, she noticed the amusement in David's eyes and he actually winked at her.

"Gus, I didn't notice that thing you drive parked outside. What’ve you been doing? Parking around the block?" Emma asked as she finished her meal, ignoring Killian as he reached over and ate what she’d left. It was the redness of his face that made Emma nervous. "August, where's the  _beast-mobile_?" August said something barely audible, avoiding her eyes. "August?"

"It broke down. I took it to Drake's garage to see if he could salvage it." Emma just nodded. Good choice. Drake was an artist. He could make an engine purr no matter how crappy the car, and if he couldn't fix it, then it wasn't worth saving. Drake taught her endless hours of auto mechanics. He was her personal guru.

"So what’ve you been driving?" Emma stopped and glanced at her friend, suspicion narrowing her eyes, and anger flaring her nostrils. "August?"

"Jesus, Em, it was only for the last two days!" Killian was shocked when Emma gave a scream of rage and disbelief and rushed to a door beside the kitchen. It led to what appeared to be a large garage. Following her, David and Killian were curious as August took off after her, assuring her it was unharmed, refueled, and it was no worse for the wear. The two detectives stopped in the doorway and gawked at the face of god, a black, mint condition GTO with full trim. Emma was checking the outside for scratches, opening the doors to check for spilled food, beer cans, or any other intrusive material. Literally she was hugging the car, talking to it, calling it her baby, when suddenly she turned on August and reached out, brutally twisting his nipple.

"Dammit, Em. That hurt like hell!" Emma just grunted at him and walked over to Killian.

"Arrest him! I want him arrested for grand theft auto!" Emma ignored a pleading August. "Well, are you going to arrest him or what?"

"No. I'm not getting in the middle of your dispute. I'll arrest him, I bet your mom calls the Cap and tells him to drop the charges, and all the paperwork will be for nothing." Killian looked the car over, understanding her ire. Bloody Hell, if it was his, he would have dropped the bastard off a bridge with an engine block tied to his body, but that was only after he kicked him around a bit.

"Okay, shoot him then," Emma demanded.

David snorted as Killian looked into her stormy eyes and shook his head no.

"If you take out your gun and shoot him between his beady eyes, I'll take you for a ride you'll never forget." Killian caught the double meaning, and fingered his gun. Emma moved in close to him, rubbing her body against him, feeling his hardness against her stomach. "I swallow."

"Okay." Killian unsnapped the safety strap off his gun and was pulling it out when David stopped him.

"Sorry, Emma, you'll have to find another way to get even that doesn't involve my partner rotting in jail for murder."

"It would be justifiable homicide," Emma reasoned.

David just shook his head no, and with a swear word that made his neck turn red, Emma turned on her heels and stalked off, but not before running her hand up Killian's body.

All Killian could say was, "Whoa!" And David echoed the sentiment. Then both men turned back to a more important issue, the GTO. "What a honey, what does she max at?"

"A clean 145 that I've seen, with maximum uptake, on an open road, she guns higher, even the patrol cars can't match her," August told them with a smile on his face.

David was literally jumping up and down waiting for August to pop the hood. All three men groaned almost in orgasmic release when the headers came into view, and all three leaned into the engine resting on their forearms. The GTO was fully geared, a real muscle car. "Emma restored her from the ground up, everything is authentic. It took her three years. It's her baby."

"Does she give it full head?" Killian couldn't stop himself from running his hands over the satin finish. It probably resembled Emma's skin. Somehow talking cars made him think of sex, which in turn made him think of Emma, which in turn caused him to lose all room in his jeans.

"Oh yeah, she likes to run it out and open her up during the weekend sometimes." August didn't even try to keep the envy out of his voice. He spent months looking for a good frame of a car he wanted. He was going to convince Drake and Emma to help him restore his own.

Killian considered what he knew from meeting Emma since this morning. That thought shocked him. Had it only been since this morning? Actually, only a few hours, but damn it already felt like a lifetime, in a good way. He knew more about her, wanted her more, and now envied her more than his last girlfriend whose name slipped his mind. "Sounds like she needs a speeding ticket."

August snorted as he closed the hood, much to the disappointment of both David and Killian. "Yeah, but you'd have to catch her first, and gentlemen, there hasn't been a man alive that can tame or catch my friend."

Killian filed the challenge away for later thought, and asked a real important question. "Think she'd let me drive it?"

August looked at Killian closely, feeling a slight fear rising. "The only way a man is getting behind this wheel is if it's true love, because Emma won't give up control to just anyone."

~*~

After they left the condo, the rest of the day was routine. It was a long and winding road with lab reports, leads to follow, and endless phone calls. All those years ago, Killian used to watch cop shows with his older brother, Liam Jones, and somehow the action and stories seemed so action filled, so romantic. But police work, or specifically Detective work, was almost eighty percent phone calls. It didn't matter, he'd rather do this job than any other, and especially Vice. He didn't envy August Booth in the least. The man was living a challenging life.

Finally getting home well after eleven at night, Killian’s whole body stiffened at a sound to his right. Quickly drawing his gun, he turned to point it straight into the face of David's sister, Regina.

"Bloody hell, Regina! How many times have I told you not to sneak up on me?" Killian looked her over and with a sigh, opened the door and gestured her inside. The smell of booze and sex hit him as she walked by. Regina entered and looked around his empty apartment, there was hardly any furniture, the place looked bare.

"I thought you were going to replace some of your stuff," she mumbled as Killian shut the door and stooped down to pick up a shoe Regina lost.

"I did." Killian moved to the phone and he picked it up to dial David. "The bed, wardrobe, a sofa, coffee table, first class stereo, all my CDs, large television, and the DVR, and kitchen crap." The phone rang, but David hadn't answered it yet. He must still be on his way home. Hanging up, Killian turned to look at Regina.

"Want to tell me what's going on?" Regina just shook her head no and leaned back on the sofa with her eyes closed. "You smell like cheap booze, sex, and do I need to check you for tracks?"

Killian sighed and put his head down, closing his eyes as the once beautiful woman started to cry. Regina was still beautiful, but she was choosing a hard road, a hard life, and one that aged a person ten years for every one. "I'll try David again."

Regina sat up straight at that. "No, please Killian, don't. I just had a bad day, that's all."

"I can understand bad days, Regina, but weren't you supposed to call someone when these rough spots hit?" Regina just nodded and looked around the room. "How bad was it, Regina? Do you remember what you did, who you did?"

A sob escaped her as she said no in a dazed voice. "I thought I was getting better, 'ya know? Maybe I was over the worst of it, but then today I met a girl I use to go to school with before "It" happened. She is a doctor. God! A freakin' doctor, and what am I? My whole damn life gone, lost in a bottle, shot up in smack, and I can't remember the last time I dated a man, and I mean really dated. Sure, I fuck them all the time, not for money, sometimes for junk, but mostly just to lose myself."

"Okay, okay, I know." Killian went over and sat on the arm of the sofa and rubbed her shoulder. "I can't help you here, you know that. It's too late for help from either David or me. You, Regina, you need to make the decision! Either get up tomorrow and get some help, or die this way!"

"I want to, I really do." Regina wiped her eyes with her sleeve. Looking down at herself she was appalled at how skanky she was dressed, how low she had sunk. The girl she ran into today reminded her of all she lost, all she let go of over five years ago. Tears filled her eyes as she felt disappointed. It was a burden to feel so much hatred for herself, but she did.

Killian looked down at her, and felt that pull of compassion. Letting rare emotions sweep across his face, he reached down and offered her his hand. "Come on. Let's start by getting you a bath." Regina silently agreed. She couldn't stand the smell of a stranger on her body, and the sooner she could remove it the better.

"Why do you take care of me, Killian?" her sad voice asked.

Killian just shook his head. Hell, if he knew. While she was in the bath, he sat out a pair of sweats, socks, and a t-shirt that actually belonged to David. Regina was a statuesque woman, trim and curvy. On a crappy day, she could make men salivate, and even looking like a twenty dollar whore on smack, she still carried herself with a sense of noble dignity. She could wear both his and David's clothes, so he had no problem getting her something to wear while he burned that dress she had on. Picking up the phone he tried David again. This time he answered.

"Yeah, your dime."

"David, I seem to have found something that belongs to you." Killian heard the silence on the other end, and understood David's unhappiness.

"She okay?" Killian hated this part the most.

"Aye, I've got her in the bath right now. I think she'll be out for the count in the next hour." David's tired voice came over the line with more weariness than Killian could bear.

"How bad?"

Killian took the phone away from his mouth and with clenched jaw closed his eyes for a moment. "The usual. I'll run her by the clinic in the morning, and have them check her over." Killian could tell from the silence that David was close to breaking, that he wasn't doing well. "Don't worry Nolan, I've got her covered tonight." Neither said anything for a few moments, but they both knew that Regina was a sinking ship, she needed to find redemption, a sense of peace before the world swallowed her alive.

"Thanks, Killian." Killian hung up after the click told him David disconnected.

It was painful for Regina. While at university studying psychology, her long-time boyfriend had been killed right in front of her. She’d never recovered from her loss. Her whole life had been planned since she was fifteen. She was going to school to become a psychologist, then she was going to marry a rich and successful man and be his trophy wife, and after two children, they were going to live out their lives in relative ease. It didn't work out that way. Then she’d met Daniel. He wasn’t what her parents wanted for her, and she struggled to maintain a relationship with both her boyfriend and her mother. When Daniel was killed, Regina left school, hit the streets, parties, flying high on smack and anything else she could find to dull the pain. Between sex, drugs, and alcohol, she was fast becoming a junky so strung out that her life expectancy was only another ten years at best. That was how Killian found her a year after Daniel had died, strung out in a back alley. She was engaged in sex with a man, up against a trash receptacle, when suddenly he started beating her. She had no memory of what happened. But Killian, who was undercover with Vice, saw it, and broke his cover to save her, to take her home.

He called the number in her bag and found David, a rookie cop still in blues. The three of them didn’t realize at the time just how close they would become, that this would not be the last time their lives crossed paths.

Killian looked up at her as she slowly entered the room, looking younger and even more vulnerable with all the makeup gone, the tiredness lining her face. He poured the soup he made her in a bowl and set it out on the kitchen bar, gesturing her to come eat. Regina sat down and tasted the soup trying not to grimace. Campbell's tomato, she hated it, but smiled.

"I fucked up again, huh?" Regina sipped the soup not looking at Killian.

"Aye, but I'll take you to the clinic tomorrow." Killian hated this, hated seeing her so lost. "Regina, you know unprotected sex is dangerous. David can't afford to lose you. You're all he's got, and all I've got too."

Regina looked at him and smiled. "Why do 'ya think we never... you know...got together or even gave it a try?" Regina looked him over. He was more than handsome, and sex was something he seemed to carry in his skin, but somehow there was never a spark of interest between them.

Killian sighed and pulled his sweats away from his body and looked down to check out his dick and balls, the full package. "Aye, they're still there. And that is why we never got together." Regina looked at him, and then suddenly started laughing. He smiled, liking the sound of her laughter, sometimes it seemed that was the part of her that was lost, the part that was buried with Daniel. Passing the crackers to her, he poured her a glass of milk.

"You're one mean bastard, Killian Jones," she said with a slight smile.

Killian nodded at that. It was best people knew that from the get-go, just so there wasn't confusion or false expectations.

"One day, I'm going to see you settled, in love, and loopy," she added.

Killian laughed at the threat to his bachelorhood.

"In the ground, little sister, in the ground, that's the only way." And once again, as he watched his surrogate sister finish her soup, he thought about Emma Swan.

~*~

Emma thought the day before had to be the worst day of her life, but she was wrong. The next day started sucking immediately when her cat threw up in her bed, and already late for work, she realized she would have to take the GTO or catch a cab, since a police officer took her to the police station in a squad car, and then Jones and Nolan brought her home.

The headache from the previous day was still hanging on behind her right eye threatening to re-emerge, so much so that she’d forgone her contacts and settled with her glasses. As soon as she hit her department, desperately trying to make it to her office, and coffee so sludge-like it could wake the dead, her Department Head, Christopher Walsh, otherwise christened _Large Fat Toady Jerk_ by Emma, stopped her in the hall with a conversation that almost encouraged her to kill herself.

Belle saw her coming, and looked down the hall to make sure the toad was gone. "How bad was it?"

"Bad," Emma rubbed her eyes and refused to cry, reminding herself that she didn't cry. Seeing a cup of swamp sludge waving before her face, she smiled at Belle and took the cup, sipping, and then closing her eyes to savor the buzz running over her body, giving her another chance of living through the day. "According to Walsh boy, I'm stupid, lazy, inept, lacking in any redeeming qualities, responsible for the mess the museum is in now, responsible for Sean Herman being murdered in the Peruvian room, and the Anti-Christ. Oh, and my next chapter draft of my thesis is due at the end of next week, no excuses."

"Jerk."

"Yeah, that's about the half of it." Emma downed the rest of the coffee. "Okay, back to bigger and better things. Did you check out _The Jones Body_?"

"I did. And I think cheesecake boy Nolan also ranks high in the _body_ scale." Belle smiled as Emma sorted through her stack of material getting ready for her first class.

"Hellooo!! All that wholesomeness will make you ill." Emma grabbed a stack of finished exams relieved to be getting rid of them, and another stack of finished essays. “Now _The Jones Body_ , that's another story. There's nothing, and I mean nothing wrong with that tall drink of cool water. Delicious! I could start at one end and kiss my way up his entire body, stopping to savor some choice juicy spots along the way. And did you see those ears, man, I’ve never been turned on by ears before.” Emma smiled as Belle laughed herself sick. It was good to hear her laugh. Belle had fewer reasons to laugh and enjoy life; a year ago her young fiancé, Greyson LeGume took a bullet in the line of duty. He never made it out of surgery.

"And did you notice those eyes? I don’t think I’ve ever seen blue like that before. Those lips, oh yeah, those lips are totally suck and nibble-worthy." Emma was just warming on her subject. "And then there was that flash of chest hair. I’ve never really been attracted to a hair splattered chest, but, Belle, I wanted to run my fingers through it. But I think it's his hands. My god, I think I had a wet dream last night just thinking about his hands!" Emma kept organizing her stacks of papers as she talked, never noticing someone coming to stand at the door.

Belle just shook her head at Emma. After the last year, she was used to Emma's brash and outspoken manner over anything that came into her head. It was freeing to see someone so comfortable with themselves to be so forthright. "Geez, do you think it's true about a man's hands being indicative of his size? I sort of brushed up against him yesterday, and it wasn't a Gerald Tiny, no sir! It had discernible ridges and everything even through two layers of denim. I think..." Emma was interrupted by a small cough from the door.

"Excuse me?"

Emma turned quickly and looked at the figure in the door. The young woman in the doorway looked very embarrassed. At first Emma thought it was one of her undergrads, but looking closely, she noticed that despite slimness and looking young, the woman was just that, a woman.

"I was looking for a Professor Swan."

"That would be me," Emma came around the desk and offered the woman her hand, "and you would be...?"

"Mary Margaret Blanchard, I'm affiliated with the Police Department. Detective Jones sent me to help with the artifacts."

"Okay, cool, the more the merrier. I've got a full crew, but I know the P.D. wanted their people on hand in case we found anything illegal. Right now, we're trying to get everything catalogued and checked against inventory to see if anything is missing."

“I’m happy to help any way I can,” Mary Margaret said with a smile, already thinking she was going to enjoy being around this vibrant woman.

"Great, so let me drop you there on my way to my first class. This is my assistant, Belle French."

Mary Margaret smiled at the other young woman with long brown hair and colorful clothes. “Oh,” Mary Margaret said suddenly in recognition. “You knew Greyson LeGume, right?”

Emma quickly looked at Belle and then Mary Margaret. It was troubling to see the smile leave Belle's face and a wash of paleness, followed by sadness, take over her usually animated face. "He was my fiancé."

Emma felt moisture behind her eyes, knowing Belle must be feeling worse, she quickly asked Belle to get Mary Margaret a cup of coffee.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think," Mary Margaret rushed out as she watched the other girl flee. "He was a nice man, always friendly."

"Yes. Yes, he was," Emma agreed. She didn't know who to feel sorriest for, Belle or Mary Margaret. It wasn't tough since she’d known Belle longer, and her loyalties had to go to friends first. But to ease the awkwardness, Emma smiled and suggested they head over to the library and get Mary Margaret settled.

~*~

The day was busy and the museum was filled with people lending a helping hand. Emma had moved in and out of the chaos to make her classes, run errands, go to meetings, and talk to students. It was a relief after her last class was taught for the day and she could dedicate herself to the museum.

Mary Margaret Blanchard was an interesting and smart woman. Emma noticed she tended to isolate herself from the others, only smiling at the antics of the others, but never really joining in. So, Emma took it upon herself to draw the woman out as her personal mission in life, very much like the one she assigned herself when Belle's fiancé died.

"What is this?" Mary Margaret asked Emma who was working next to her. It surprised her when Emma had set up her work station next to Mary Margaret, and with her the entire room shifted bringing everyone closer until Mary Margaret found herself working in the middle of the group.

Emma laughed at the gourd. "That's a penis gourd," Emma tried not to laugh at the confusion on Mary Margaret's face. "It's a decorative piece. Some tribes use these gourds, dry them, decorate them, and then slide them on a man's penis instead of pants or a codpiece."

"You mean they used it to cover their...thing?" Emma looked at Mary Margaret in concern. Okay, no one on her staff called a man's penis a 'thing' or a "sausage' or any other euphemistic term that was sophomoric and juvenile. They were all adults, penis, dick, cock, or even a few other words were acceptable to correctly refer to the male genitals, but 'thing' was not. "But, it's so long and big?" Mary Margaret said with awe.

Emma laughed as did the rest of the group at the embarrassment poor Mary Margaret was suffering.

"Well, the bigger, the better, the more prestigious." Emma tried to take pity on Mary Margaret. It was tough being in a room of crass anthropologists, geologists, and a historian more than happy to be descriptive in a manner that was unsuitable for genteel society. "See, the top of the pointy gourd has a braided string that is worn around the neck to keep it from bobbing all about the place, and the base of the gourd slipped over a man's penis with these braided strings looping around their legs and waist and between their ass cheeks to hold it in place." Emma stopped when it looked like Mary Margaret was going to faint dead away. "Oh hell, let's just get," Emma looked around and spotted one of her best friends and a graduate student, "Al to demonstrate it."

The whole group exploded in laughter and catcalls as Al stood up and started unzipping his jeans. Some were chanting for him to take it off, real slow, while others were whistling, stomping their feet and beating out a primitive beat. Mary Margaret looked at the group, and couldn't help but smile. They were so loud, so alive, undisciplined and happy.

"Okay, okay, let's put it away Al. We've got no time to play. We'll continue this at my place this weekend at group review," Emma instructed.

The group continued to laugh and joke making rude comments as they went back to work. Ruby Lucas was working arduously with the group, laughing, and having a good time, but still she was held off from the rest. It wasn't anything that she did, but something about her personality had the group politely letting her join in, yet keeping her at a distance. Strangely enough, they had no problem with Mary Margaret. It was like she fit in with the group, despite her caution, and they tried to include her in their shenanigans.

Tink wandered in and plopped herself down next to Emma and Mary Margaret. She was carrying her usual bag of toasted almonds. Emma reached in and popped a few in her mouth, munching away as Tink went into detail regarding all the gossip of the day. Mary Margaret even broke in to ask a few questions, so Tink finally turned the subject to Gerald Tiny and his mini-me, making Mary Margaret laugh, color staining her cheeks. That was how the detective team of Jones and Nolan found them. Both were bowled over at the difference in Mary Margaret Blanchard in just a few hours of exposure to Emma Swan and her crazy life. The normally quiet woman had color in her cheeks, a twinkle in her eyes, and she was laughing a fun range laugh with her voice altering to make funny squeaky sounds as she mimicked other members of the group.

Killian turned to make a comment to David and just gave up rolling his eyes. David was thunderstruck, practically paralyzed by Mary Margaret. Figures. This had to be Swan's fault. She found Blanchard a personality, or at least lent her one for a while, and now David was love-struck, practically mooing with big cow eyes. Killian swore under his breath when Mary Margaret looked up and her eyes met David's and they stared across the room at each other, oozing sickly sweet looks that had Killian icking under his breath.

Emma looked up and saw something she wanted. Oh, the _Jones Body_ was in her house, on her turf. Yum. Seeing the looks between Mary Margaret and David, Emma decided to give it a helping hand.

"Detective Nolan,” she called out, “could I trouble you for a little assistance?"

David tore his glance away from Mary Margaret to see a smiling Emma, and without realizing he was doing it, he smiled back. What was it with this woman? Drawn like a moth to a flame, he went to stand by her, waiting for her to command him to her will.

"Could you finish helping Mary Margaret here with this while I talk to your partner? It should only take a few moments, and Mary Margaret will show you what to do." David took Emma's spot in answer and Emma caught Tink's look and they both shared a private communication over the couple's heads.

Emma slowly made her way to Killian, stopping to answer questions along the way. By the time she made it to his side, Killian was feeling a slight impatience. "Detective? Could I see you in my office for a second?"

Killian looked over at his partner, shook his head in disbelief, and then nodded to Emma, following her into her office. As soon as the door shut, he found himself pushed up against it, and his mouth engaged in a full-blown kiss with Emma Swan. He had spent most of the night in his bed, and most of the day, trying to think of ways to get in this very position with her, and here she was, doing all the work for him! Emma Swan was definitely his kind of woman. For a man that liked to dominate, to be the controller in everything, her aggressive brash treatment of him, and her refusal to shrink from his obvious sexual desire for her, licked rivers of molten fire down his body, into places he’d never felt before. And if he wasn't enjoying it so much, he would have been appalled at how much he enjoyed her messing him up. Pushing him. And bloody hell, when he’d seen her in that room, with those sexy as hell glasses on and her hair in a messy gathering at the back of her head, he never thought he’d see anything hotter than she is.

The energy burst through them, a shock of pure feeling, intense and powerfully overwhelming. Emma's fingers locked onto Killian's biceps, clinging when their lips met and devoured each other's mouths. Heat rose between them, surrounding and saturating them with this need that was building since the day before. Killian moved his mouth away from Emma's, roaming down the curve of her neck, not so gently sucking the skin between his teeth. Emma breathed in gasps of air as if she was a drowning victim, but she didn't resist what was happening, caught up in the moment like Killian, her body rubbing intensely against the obvious stiffness pressing into her.

The surge subsided momentarily and they pulled back, practically shoving away from each other, to stare again at one another in shocked surprise and near panic. Emma didn't know it would take off that quickly, burn so brightly. Clearing her throat, she tried to smile, but couldn't, so instead she pushed her hair off her hot skin. "I'm sorry. Okay, I'm not sorry, but I promised myself that I would do that the next time I saw you." A spark of interest and mischief entered her eyes. "You want to file assault charges and handcuff me, Detective? Maybe frisk me?"

"It was wrong. This is wrong."

Emma just shrugged as Killian tried to make that point clear. She liked the sound of his voice, so much deeper than usual, his accent more prominent, the half-closed, heavy look to his eyes, and the redness of his lips from where she sucked them into her mouth. He looked...messed up. "Why? Because I'm a witness or a suspect in your investigation?" Emma was feeling a little pissed. Why did everything have to be so complicated? Why couldn't they just go with what they were feeling?

"No, because you're a pain in the ass, love," was all he could come up with.

Emma shrugged again, like that was a bad thing.

Killian stopped her from making a smart remark with another quick kiss. "I don't have time to do this correctly at the moment... David and I are on a stakeout tonight. As it is, I was just checking in before I left, and then you do this.” Killian pulled her roughly up against his body so she could feel and know what the hell _this_ was.

Damn, he was hard! All pokey against her stomach... Emma's eyes half closed and she moved her mouth a whispers breath from his and moaned. With a growl of frustration, Killian grabbed her and moved her back into the room, up against her desk, and lifted her to sit on it with him between her legs, pushing her short skirt higher up on her thighs. Leaning her back on the desk, she was forced to put her hands behind her to brace herself against him. Papers and books were knocked to the floor.

Killian invaded the junction between her legs, leaning into her to push his rigid erection against her soft mound, feeling the heat seeping through her clothes and his jeans. He was going to lose it in his jeans without even getting inside her or taking off any of their clothes! Her legs came around his waist, cradling him firmly while she leaned back on her hands and let her head fall back exposing a full length of her neck. His mouth found her skin too much to resist. Emma gave a shocked sound as his hands found the skin at her waist and moved upward toward the soft underside of her breast. She hadn't even realized he had opened her blouse until it was hanging off her shoulders, leaving her bare and exposed except for the small scrap of lace she called a bra.

His hands moved to take the weight of her breast and his thumbs rubbed across her nipples, pressing swollen against the lace, causing her to moan softly at the ache. Watching him with a look of hunger, she held her breath as his hand went to unclasp her bra from the front. But before he could unfasten it, his cell phone rang. For a second in time, they both stood still, staring at each other, until Killian sighed and took one hand away to try to reach something in his pocket. The wad of bills he finally pulled from his tight jeans surprised her, and when he pulled a ten dollar bill free and gave it to her, Emma's mouth opened in disbelief. He was paying her! For what? A dry hump on her office desk? Balling her hand up into a fist, she was ready to give him a right cross when he leaned over and licked her lip, gently pulled the bottom one into his mouth and sucked, and then he said hoarsely, "That's for all the swearing I'm going to do over the next few minutes." She relaxed her fist and instead ran her hand up his arm.

Killian straightened himself away from Emma and pulled out the insistently ringing cell phone to answer it, never once taking his eyes from her. Emma smiled at his gruff voice, thick with passion and all so very pissed off, as he took the call. As one obscenity after another left his lips, Emma folded the ten dollar bill and put it in her bra, knowing he was watching her every move with hawk-like interest. Hopping down from the desk, but continuing to lean against it, she fixed her short skirt and buttoned her blouse while leaning back with her legs casually crossed at the ankles, watching him watching her.

When he turned off the phone he gave her a thoughtful look, and then leaned into her with one hand resting on the desk next to her, and the other moving up the line of buttons on her refastened blouse. "How'd you get to work this morning?"

"What?" Emma hadn't expected that question and it left her momentarily lost and without words. Clearing her throat and looking into his eyes, she answered, "The GTO."

Killian leaned his head against her forehead and groaned. That is a car worthy of a hard-on.

"Why?" she probed.

"Give me a set of keys, you can't drive two cars home, and you can't leave the GTO overnight, or tomorrow you'll be forced to take it again." Killian held out his hand while she reached around to find her bag surprisingly still on her desk. (Little else was!) Taking the keys, she paused handing them over.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to drive your car home and park it after I finish work tonight. That way when you need to get to work in the morning, you won't have to drive the GTO and leave it out in the parking lot where any idiot can ding it or even steal it." Killian quickly kissed her again. "So give me the bloody keys."

Emma chuckled and dropped the set of keys in his hand, moving her now freed hand up his body, pushing her fingertips through the chest hair on display, to wrap around his neck and bring him to her for another kiss. God, he tasted good! His tongue was rubbing against hers, sucking her into his mouth. Her hand came around to gently stroke his cheek, liking the feel of his stubble rasping against her skin.

"These for the GTO?" he asked.

Emma snorted and pulled away from him. "You wish! No, the yellow bug in front of the Anthropology building." Killian swore under his breath. He should've known it would be harder to get into that car than it would be to get into Emma. She wasn't as uptight about her body as she was about the car. She leaned in again, veering off from his lips to suck his earlobe into her mouth, her fingers ghosting over the shell of his other ear, then she returned to kissed him once more before he pulled away.

Killian looked at her, liking her mussed up look, liking it a lot. "You okay, love?"

"Oh yeah, I’m juicy.” Emma laughed at the expression moving across his face, and he rubbed a hand across his eyes not even trying to suppress the groan.

"Dammit, Swan!"

She laughed again just because he was so cute, all aroused and frustrated. "Got to go to work, huh?"

Killian kissed her again, convincing himself it was the last time then he was leaving. "Aye. Stop teasing me."

"Oh, Detective," Emma said pulling away from him and going to open her office door despite his protest, "teasing implies I've no intention of following through." Emma grabbed his shirt front as he came up to her at the door, "and there couldn't be anything further from the truth."

Killian settled his face close to hers, threatening her in a dark voice. "This is far from over, Professor. I'm not through with you yet."

"I hope not, Detective. I sincerely hope not, otherwise I would be disappointed in your..." Emma looked down at his body and then back up at his eyes, "staying power.”

~*~

Mary Margaret looked up and away from David to see Jones and Emma standing in her office door. They were leaning towards each other talking, and from the look of it, the talking was very close and intimate. Mary Margaret gasped when Killian moved in and kissed Emma ardently, pulling away slowly, letting his tongue linger in her mouth. David followed Mary Margaret's glance and swore under his breath. Damn that was fast, faster than he had ever seen Killian move on anyone before! He smiled though, when he heard Emma's happy laughter and a dark growl from Killian.

Tink looked over, too, and made a comment that made Mary Margaret blush from head to toe. “Wonder if she did him on her desk?" Everyone looked at her, for voicing the same question they all had, but didn't express. "Hey, if Gerald Tiny can do it, then why shouldn't Emma, or any of us?” Tink reasoned. “It's not like he's a student. Sure, when a man is caught with his pants down, there are token censure and ramifications, but if it's a woman, she is threatened with moral conduct review and possible dismissal. I'm just saying double standards, they stink!"

One of the students looked over, checking out Killian and Emma. "So do you think they did? I mean, there was that loud crash before, and..."

David said without looking up, "No, not possible. Not enough time. Killian likes to take his time, a few hours or so." David looked up to see all the women staring at him. "What?"

Tink cleared her throat, twice. "A couple of hours? That's normal?"

David, with devilment in his eyes, just shook his head no. "Nope, that's a quickie. Now if he's real serious, then he needs more time and space. Killian hates not being thorough." David looked up when he heard his partner bellowing across the way. Quickly getting up, he waved goodbye to everyone, leaving them gawking after him.

Killian had a dark look on his face and with a quick look down, David knew why. Giving a radiant Emma a wink as he passed her, David went to hang with the devil.

Tink looked at the others and whistled under her breath. "Think he has brothers, or something? I need me some of that." Mary Margaret looked down as the others started discussing sex, staying power, and other subjects. Occasionally, she would look to find Emma with a worried frown between her brows. Mary Margaret never bothered to look over at Ruby and her reaction to the conversation. It was well known in the P.D. that Ruby considered Killian her personal property.

~*~

 


	3. A Warning Too Late

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I start with this weeks update, I hope you all would take a moment to pause and send good wishes to those struggle today with whatever troubles they have, from those suffering from effects of the hurricane's battering their homes, to anyone who is struggling to get out of bed in the morning. Thanks. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who have left comments on this story, the love I feel pouring out for this fic is so awesome. Thank you all for your thoughts, it really makes me smile when I read each and every one.
> 
> As always a huge thanks to ilovemesomekillianjones for her constant support throughout this journey, and her ability to listen to my rants and still give me awesome advice. You're the best, chica. 
> 
> There is no artwork accompanying this chapter but you can always check out @jenswans and @swanemma on Tumblr.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy this chapter.

**Chapter 3 A Warning Too Late**

Marco Geppeti found Emma immersed in requisition orders and invoicing, trying to find a better system for them to get through the artifacts faster. Dr. Geppeti was a professor in the Anthropology Department specializing in dead languages, and one of Emma's favorite people. This was his last year of teaching as the university was forcing him to retire at the end of the academic year, the retirement wasn't a welcomed one. Emma felt bad for him, part of her was ready to sic her mother on the situation and let her drum up some sympathy for the man. Dr. Geppeti was a survivor from a WWII concentration camp. After the war, what was left of his family immigrated to America instead of returning to war torn Italy.

"Emma, " he murmured as he looked around the crowd of workers, some he knew, but most he did not. "What have you gotten yourself into, my child?"

Emma smiled, completely used to him calling her numerous terms of endearment. "Marco, what are you doing in this house of horror?" Emma hugged the old man and led him to a seat.

Geppeti looked closely at the group of people, a shudder running through his body, and then looked at his sweet Emma. The child was a ray of sunshine in a world full of ugliness. Her addition to the staff of their department was the first breath of fresh air they’d had in years. He didn't like seeing anything so horrible as death touching her. She was his angel.

"I came for you," Geppeti held her hand in his. "I said to myself that this burden is too much for my bell'angelo, so here I am, to give you my services, such as they are. Here, command me to do as you need."

Emma leaned over and kissed his cheek. "You know this mess will wreak hell on your blood pressure, but if you think I will send you away, forget it. I love watching you work. I need an overseer to keep the troops working. Look at them," Emma gestured at the group who posed for the beloved professor. "Tell me, in truth, Marco, have you ever seen a more ragged group so in need of guidance?"

"Then it is best that I came. This is such a task, more than a small thing such as you should withstand. Marco will fix it for you." The older man stood and wandered over to check out the process, and as they worked over the next few hours every member was given his personal attention. He seemed to take extra time with Mary Margaret, giving her instructions with the greatest care, and finally rolling up his sleeves and helping her, telling her tales from civilizations long since gone. The entire group quieted and listened to him as he wove stories of epic heroes, legends of valor and greed, and the coming of kings.

It was hours before he finally had to take his leave. Pulling Emma to the side, and having her walk him out, Marco became very quiet. "Emma, I worry about you. For you."

Emma just smiled and patted his hand as he continued. "There is much in this world, much that needs to never touch you. The evil that lives in men, it's a thing, a living demon that feeds itself on the pain and despair of the innocent. When it devours a pure one, it becomes stronger, powerful, and even more vicious."

Emma nodded her head sagely. "I know. I can't imagine he is gone, that this could happen, here of all places. Oh, Sean, that poor, sweet man,” Emma agreed.

Emma stopped to help him into his coat, but as she drew back, he grabbed her arm and held her tight. His sad eyes changed, becoming dark and deadly serious, and seeing the horror that only a man who lived through the Holocaust could see. "No, Emma, it's more, so much more. You must never be alone. Never. Have lunch with me tomorrow. You and me only. There are things to say and things to know." With that said, he looked back into the museum and Emma felt a tremor run through his old, frail body. And before she could question him, he turned and left.

Emma worked a few more hours with those who could stay. They ordered food and tried to get as far as possible. Emma had arranged security to give people escorts to their cars, even though the room had a few Storybrooke P.D. members still, she didn't want anyone else to be hurt. Marco had caused her blood to run cold, and hours later she still couldn't shake the sense that he knew more than she about this whole ordeal.

Emma and Mary Margaret were the last two people left that evening. As they were stacking up invoices and putting away journals, Mary Margaret kept looking over at Emma, and then away again. She wanted desperately to talk to Emma, but the delicate subject she wanted to broach was so far outside her comfort zone. This whole situation was just plain difficult. Biting her lip, Mary Margaret made a decision.

"Um, I didn't know you knew Killian Jones," she said casually.

Emma looked over at her in surprise. They had talked most of the day, but this was the first time Mary Margaret had initiated a topic of discussion.

"Well, I only just met him yesterday, but I am hoping to know him better soon," Emma answered with a sinful gleam in her eye.

Mary Margaret was visibly shocked. They only met yesterday? From the scene earlier, she would have sworn they were better acquainted, or at least knew each other for a longer span of time. She had known David Nolan for over two years, and today was the first time she actually talked to him about something other than police work. Emma was like an alien to Mary Margaret, an enigma. Something to hold in awe and in fear.

"Emma, I don't know how to say this. I mean, I don't want to overstep, or butt into something that isn't really my business, or is your personal business, because I just met you, and I really have no right to interfere or even offer you an opinion, or even know if you want it, but..."

Emma looked at the young woman in horror. "Mary Margaret, calm down and just spit it out! It's okay. I won't be offended." Emma watched her take deep breaths to calm herself.

"Okay, it's just... I mean..." Mary Margaret saw the look Emma was giving her and stopped stammering. "It's Killian Jones. There are lots of rumors about him around the police station, especially among the females." Mary Margaret watched Emma cock her head to one side and become more aware and thoughtful.

"And?"

"Well, let's just say that he's not a very nice man." Mary Margaret paused, okay that wasn't necessarily right. True, she and Killian were cordial to each other, but hardly friendly, but it was more than just being a nice man.

"That's okay, Mary Margaret. I'm not sure I want him nice." Emma smiled to herself. Hell, yeah! What she imagined doing with him didn’t require any shape or form of nice.

"No, I don't mean it like that. Really, he is a good guy and everything. Just not to be involved with... romantically." Mary Margaret plucked at the front of her blouse and shifted on her feet. "I've heard that women fall for him. Hard. And he's nice to them, but emotionally? Emotionally, he's lacking."

"Lacking?" Emma said with surprise. She didn't get it. The man didn’t seem to be _lacking_ anything, and emotionally he’d been pretty damn intense. The spark in his eyes, the growling of his breath, the groans from deep inside, as far as she could tell, Killian Jones seemed to be one of the more emotional people she knew.

"Let's just say that the women in his life wanted more than he could give, wanted him to be a bit more deeply attached to them than he was. What I've been told is that a woman involved with him would have to do all the work with little or no compensation." Mary Margaret turned red from the discussion.

Compensation? Emma hoped that didn't mean sex. "You're saying that I should be careful about giving him my heart, because he doesn't have one to give back?"

"Something like that," Mary Margaret said with a sigh of relief, feeling better for having said it. "I think you're wonderful. I’ve honestly never met anyone like you before, and today was the most fun I can remember ever having, ever. I don't want to see you brokenhearted or trampled by Killian Jones, so I just wanted to tell you to be careful."

Emma smiled at Mary Margaret, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. Was it possible to already be too far gone after only twenty-four hours? But what worried Emma the most was Mary Margaret was the second person that day that warned her to take care.

~*~

Professor Marco Geppeti sat in his office late into the night. He knew it was only a matter of time before death found him. Today it was clear he had overstepped his usefulness, that he wasn't needed to find the missing piece. Sitting at the large work table reading through his beloved ancient text for the last time, he waited.

It wasn't a noise that alerted him that the wait was over, but the movement of coldness, the stink of decay from his own body. He knew the smell. He recognized it from childhood. It was a smell that couldn't be forgotten, a sweetness edged in a bitter scent so strong that it choked. Keeping his eyes forward, he didn't even turn to look or to watch. Instead, he calmly folded his hands over his beloved manuscript and bowed his head in prayer waiting for the executioner’s blow. And for the first time since he was a child, he spoke to God. Jehovah. The one he once felt had forsaken him...

~*~

Emma heard the noise, the sounds from downstairs. Turning in her bed she looked at the clock. It was two thirty in the morning, August had gone to work, and the cat was snoring next to her. Lying still for a few moments, she tried to identify the sounds. Was it someone walking around or just those silly night sounds that pop up occasionally to scare you when you least expect it. Nope, someone was downstairs. Dammit, this was the first time in weeks she’d gotten to bed at a decent hour, and now a burglar was going to come and ruin her sleep, force her to get up, or worse, call the damn police! If the police came that could mean hours and hours of endless paperwork. Fuck that. Emma turned over on her stomach and looked between the banisters that were at the back of her bed, down into the dark room below.

Clearing her throat, she said loudly, "Do not take the last piece of chicken!" With that said, she turned back over and tried to go back to sleep. She could hear the footsteps coming up the stairs, and the movement of the bed as someone sat down beside her. Great. At least her intruder seemed gentle enough, and if he didn't eat the chicken on his way out, that would be a bonus.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you?!"

Emma opened one eye at the sound of Killian Jones's voice. Looking up at him, she sighed and closed her eye again to go back to sleep. Dammit, he'd probably eat the chicken just to be spiteful. There goes tomorrow's lunch.

"Emma? Dammit, wake up! Is this how you respond to someone breaking into your home?" Killian's voice was rising in irritation, "Don't eat the bloody chicken?"

"Well, I was saving it for lunch tomorrow! You're trespassing, and I'm not interested in having you arrested tonight, so go away." Emma felt the bed dip under her as he leaned across her body and placed his hands on both sides of her head, trapping her against the bed. "You're not going away, are you?" she said.

"No."

Emma startled at his voice. He said it so matter of fact, without emotion. It was the lack of inflection that bothered her the most. His voice was too quiet, too not Killian. Something was wrong. Even in the dark, she could sense he wasn't in a good place in his head, that he was teetering on the verge of a meltdown, and somehow she just knew that wasn't something he'd be able to forgive himself.

"Okay, then you need to get out of your clothes and come to bed. I'm tired, and it's late, so hurry up." Emma held her breath to see what he would do, hoping he would take the offer to lean on her, to rest, so he could find the control he usually had, that was fast slipping away.

Finally taking the initiative, she reached up and slowly unbuttoned his shirt; she pulled it off his arms, nudging him to lift his hands one at a time so she could remove it completely. Then taking his undershirt in hand she pulled it over his head. Emma was surprised that he didn't protest or say anything, just let her undress him. Pushing him back from her, she sat up and pulled the bedding back for him. "Get in." As he slid under the covers, she moved up on her knees and reached down, removing his shoes and socks, then finally reached for the zipper of his pants. She moved the zipper down, noticing he wasn't wearing any underwear. Nothing. Not a boxer or a brief in sight. She wasn’t surprised in the least.

As she pushed his jeans down, he helped by kicking them away. Emma ran her hands back up his body, caressing him and pulling the covers over him. It was plain to see that he wasn't aroused and Emma felt sympathy rising in her throat. Whatever it was, it had to be bad. Killian Jones without a hard-on was its own outrage. Lying back down in the bed, groaning in appreciation of the nice firm mattress, the silky cool sheets, and warm comforter, Emma reached over and pulled him into her arms. He came willingly, and sprawled across her, resting his head against her breast, listening to her heart and the sounds of air moving through her chest. His arm was slung across her and he closed his eyes as she moved her hands-one to push through his hair and hold his head firmly against her, and the other to rub and stroke his naked back, offering him comfort.

They lay holding each other tight, his arm encircling her, hugging her like a lifeline. At first, Emma didn't know what she was feeling, but the tremors that started deep, finally found their way to the surface. His whole body seemed to shake as sobs racked him, but not a tear was shed, not even a verbal sob. It was just the deep tremors of pain and despair, of feeling it so intensely that even tears couldn't give release. The dry sobs continued for a while and Emma held him, rubbing his back and making sounds that were soft and soothing, but with no real syntax. As she held him so many thoughts bombarded her, made her worry and fret, and then the worst thought rose to the top, to leave her almost numb from the possible pain. Quietly she had to ask, "Was it David?"

To her greatest relief, he just shook his head no against her. Emma sighed out a trembling breath, only now realizing just how much of an impact these men had on her, and she felt tears of solace stinging her eyes. Whoever it was would be bad enough, but David would've been impossible. Killian felt heavy lying on her, but she didn't mind the weight, it felt good. Just kissing him on top of his head, she soothed him to a quietness, a calm, the last thing she said was, "Sleep."

When Emma woke, he was on his back, sprawled across her bed with an arm under his head. The other arm was wrapped around her, holding her tight to his side and cushioning her body on his chest. Looking at the clock Emma was shocked that she could still sleep for a few more hours before she needed to get up. Running a hand up his chest, through the dark hair there and gently circling his masculine nipple, she couldn’t resist reaching over to kiss it, running it lightly against her teeth, then sucking the nipple lightly into her mouth. Looking down in interest, she watched his morning erection grow until she couldn't resist running her hand down his body and under the covers to stroke him with gentle fingers. Now this was the Killian Jones she could handle, the one she knew.

"Do it harder."

Emma was surprised at the sound of his husky voice. Of course he was awake, and where last night he wasn't aroused, he most definitely was this morning. Emma moved her leg away from him, where it was entwined with his in the night, and kicked the covers down. She wanted to see him, really see him, and the early morning light was making that possible. Killian didn't protest about the loss of covers. The loft area was warm enough, and no amount of cool air was going to affect his erection. He watched as she moved her hand to the base and gripped him firmly, in a massaging motion she moved upward to spread the moisture collecting at his head. Killian groaned in his throat and closed his eyes for a moment. Savor...he wanted to savor it, the feel of her masturbating him, jerking him off almost better than he could do so himself. Where the hell did she learn to touch a person like this?

She turned on her side and moved her leg to rest between his, to mate their legs thigh to thigh as her hand kept him in a firm grip, working him masterfully until his hips flowed with the motion. He wanted to be inside her, to join with her, but at this rate she was going to finish him before they ever got that far! Suddenly Emma moved her upper body across him, he tilted his head to look at her beautiful, clear, green eyes, an intense look about her, and the soft parting of her lips allowing him just to see the tip of her tongue. "You okay?"

Killian laughed at the question, thrusting himself into her hand and giving her back her words from the day before. "I'm juicy." He liked her small shout of pleased laughter.

She looked down at her hand, back at him, and then bent down to swipe her tongue across the head of his penis, to gather some of the moisture. Straightening, she brought her mouth to his, sharing the taste. The touch of her tongue jumpstarted his heart and ravaged all the air from his lungs. There was power in the kiss and it surged through them again and again, shocking them into action.

Killian sat up in bed and pulled her up next to him. Reaching down he found the hem of her sleep shirt and pulled it over her head, regretfully causing Emma to lose her hold of him. She moved her hand upward, wrapping it around his neck to bring him to her for another long sucking kiss. Killian fell back in the bed, dragging her body on top of his. Finding the waistband of her boy shorts he slowly peeled them from her body while he fucked her mouth with his tongue. She kept moving her mouth away from his to watch his tongue leave his mouth to follow her lips. She was mesmerized with his actions. With skin bared against skin, hot and tingling, the need to surge together overcame them again.

Emma pulled away gasping for breath, something, or anything resembling air to inflate her lungs. Looking at him and still seeing the shadows that engulfed him last night, she was concerned he was acting without thought. "Do we need to talk about this?"

Killian ran his hand up her now naked body to rub a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it. "All I want to do is fuck."

Emma smiled at him and kissed him again, "Thank god." Sure, she should be more caring, wanting to hear his problems, but at that moment and at that time, getting him, having him, was all she wanted. She wasn't sure she was ready to share his baggage after only knowing him for just over one day.

The kiss went on and on, not letting up at all. The need to feel the other drove them together and Killian took control, turning Emma around in his arms, positioning her back to his chest so his arms could encircle her, so he could press his lips to her neck, nibbling and biting. He soothed her with his hands running over her front, taking one of her hands with his, moving their hands to touch her intimately between her legs as he pressed himself into her back, letting her feel his desire rubbing against her. Emma seemed to shake with the knowledge of what was about to happen, letting Killian drive them with a cry and a gasp of surprise as the fingers of her hand and his entered her, stroked her. Emma's eyes closed and her head fell back on his shoulder. His tongue licked up the side of her neck and he whispered huskily into her ear, "I like to watch."

Emma turned her head in surprise and looked at him, seeing him looking down her front, watching her body and its reaction as he held both her hand and his own firmly inside her. With his other hand holding her hip bone, Killian pulled her firmly into the seat of his groin, controlling her hip movement while he pressed into her back, letting his fingers move in and out of her along with her own, occasionally rubbing her nub of nerve endings to push her higher. She heard his groan when her other hand moved down her own body to join their hands, to grab his wrist and control his movements. Emma swore at him softly as she realized his damn voyeuristic soul was going to bring her off using her own hand guided by his. She heard Killian’s chuckling response, _bastard_ , while he used his hips to control hers, pushing her faster and deeper onto their combined hands.

Killian pushed up against Emma, chest pressed to her back, loving the feel of her all laid out against him from hip to shoulder. He lay kiss after kiss along the back of her neck, feeling the slight sheen of sweat against his lips as it mingled with his own.  He kissed her just behind the ear, biting her neck and making Emma moan with pleasurable pain. He was teasing her in his own way, so looking at him with narrowed eyes, she put her head back on his shoulder. She lifted her hand from his, allowing him free range of her body, and brought her fingers up toward her mouth, wet with her own juices. She smiled as she felt his body behind her stiffen even more. She felt the rush of air from his lungs as he remembered to breathe, and heard his gasping groan as her tongue came out to meet her fingers, to lick her taste from them. Quickly removing his hand from where it pinned her hip firmly to his, he grabbed her wrist and plunged her fingers into his mouth, sharing her taste.

God, he was so hot! His mouth was like a furnace as his tongue laved up and down the lengths of her digits, sucking them in and out, mimicking the movement of his other hand fucking her, stroking her while they rocked gently. The power swelled within them, seeping out and soaked back up through the skin of their naked bodies, bound together in their mutual need for each other.

Killian had meant to control her...push her...tease her, as revenge for teasing him the day before. But her sucking on her fingers and then allowing him to do the same, knocked the air out of him, made him want to taste her again...and again... to end this warfare and get on with it. He never let a woman dictate to him before, but somehow with her, he liked it, relished it. If he pushed to be the dominant one, forcing her into submission instead of sharing it, he realized he would destroy the very thing about her he liked the most, her sass and confidence.

Moving away from her and backing up, he gave her room to turn. She moved onto her back and lay there staring up at him, mapping out his features, seeing more in just a look than most could read in a book.

She scared him. No doubt about it, this Swan creature was one scary lass, and he loved the challenging danger and edge she represented! Her hand came up to sweep gently across his forehead, to brush his hair back slightly, before continuing to circle behind his ear. With his eyes closing, he reached down to rest for a second against her until her soft, sweet voice hit him.

"Are we going to fuck or what?"

He quickly looked at her, fire flaming in his eyes, liking how she caught him in a moment of weakness and found the perfect thing to say to give him back himself.

"Aye, lass, in a second, first, just hold on to this." He moved her hand over her head and put it on the railing to grip it tightly. Then watching her, he slowly started working his way down her body, moving his hands first touching her, holding her, testing the firmness and give and then letting his mouth follow, spending endless amounts of time on her breasts. He moved down past her stomach to finally take her into his mouth. The taste from her fingers wasn't enough, he wanted more. A hell of a lot more, so he pushed her...opened her...and feasted on her. The movement of her foot along his body, the tangling of her hand in his hair, occasionally moving to grip his shoulder, and the stinging bite of her nails into his skin as she moved her hips to feed him more was like a surging of adrenaline in his blood, an insatiable need to take what she offered, and then take even more. It wasn't until he felt her break apart, the echoing gasp from her throat, the tossing of her head back, that he even bothered to pay attention, to come back from that place he resided in, just living in the feeling. Finally, he moved his body up hers, to join her on the crest of her orgasm. A part of him hated that she was right again, that she was juicy. And another part loved it. Juicy, bloody hell, she was damn mouthwatering!

Killian surged into her, slamming deep in one thrust, moving her leg to ride high on his hip, he wrapped his arm around her hip, using it to control her movements, to synchronize their bodies. From where he rested heavily against her, he stretched along her length, putting his other arm over her head to grip the railing next to her hand. He looked down to see her watching him, her breasts heaving as her breath came fast and shallow, and just when he thought he had her driven in front of him the way he liked it, she gave him back his own words from earlier.

"Do it harder."

Those three words sent his body out of control, and her other hand pulled his head to hers, allowing her to lick the wetness from his face, to mate her tongue to his, tasting herself from his mouth.

Killian sucked in air, feeling Emma's back arch bringing her hips tighter into his, and meet his thrusts. She wrapped fingers from one hand around his thigh and held on, coming with a moan that had him echoing her deep in his throat. Killian thrust arduously needing to feel her break under him, and with the need to finish this as close to Emma's coming as possible. He forced her smaller body down onto the bed, driving with urgency, clinging with a firm grip on Emma's hips, liking that her mouth never once stopped devouring his. Light exploded! Energy seemed to spark out across the room, to singe the ceiling and railing and their bodies as well. Either that or his eyes had rolled back in his head. A roaring filled Killian's hearing, like the crashing of waves with a light blinding him. He tasted only Emma...felt only Emma's hot skin against his for what might have been eternity. He could live doing nothing but this again and again...

Sound slowly began to seep back to normal, Emma's breathing was ragged in his ears, unsteady and gasping, but the young woman's heartbeat strong and fast, was powerfully alluring in its rhythm. Normal darkness descended, brightness fading to the light from outsides early morning. Killian was afraid to move, every nerve ending in his body seemed alive, to be moving fast and furious like an open electrical circuit. It was the orgasm that kept giving, and that had never happened before. Only Emma's scent remained. Just beneath him, soft hair tickled his nose. She smelt of sweet honeysuckle. And her body, pinned beneath him, still hot and sweat drenched, shivered ever so subtly. He needed to move off her, to keep from crushing her, but he couldn't. Every movement sent racing threads of fire down his spine as all the neurons of his overcharged body fired one synaptic relay after another. So instead, he sprawled across her body very much like the night before, and hoped she didn't mind. It was her fault any way, she was the one who had laid him to waste. As soon as he stopped feeling her, smelling her, and tasting her deep in his body, he would move.

They fell asleep that way.

~*~

When Emma woke a few hours later she was disoriented by the amount of light. Usually she was out of her place and to work before the sun came up, but today she was having a lazy day. The weight pinning her down finally forced her to open her eyes and look. It was Killian’s arm across her body, his head sharing her pillow, and the fact he literally took up almost all her super king-sized bed, sprawled across it in abandon, that made her smile. Stretching and trying not to wake him, she carefully removed herself from under him, and sat on the side of the bed. She turned off the alarm, and got up to start her day. After showering and dressing, Emma picked up his discarded clothing and piled it together in a chair, draping his shoulder holster and gun across the headboard close to him.

On her way downstairs, she looked at him one more time, taking in how dead to the world he seemed, how tired. Grabbing the phone while making coffee, she quickly dialed Nemo’s office and increased the amount of coffee she made to leave some for Killian when he woke up, and Gus when he came home. Buttering her bagel and searching the refrigerator for yogurt and fresh preserves, she listened to the phone connect to Dak’s office.

“Nemo.” Emma frowned at the anger and sound of Dak’s voice.

“Dak, it’s Emma.” She quickly swallowed the mouthful of bagel while pouring herself coffee, and trying to talk at the same time.

“Emma!” She smiled at the warmth in his tone, but it was still subdued. Dak was an easy man to like. He was firm, tough, and honest, and literally putty in the hands of her mom. “Are you okay? Did you need something?”

Emma laughed. “I’m fine, actually really fine! Listen, your Detective Jones stopped by late last night to bring me my bug from the university, and he didn’t look in very good shape, so I had him spend the night.” Emma heard the silence on the other end, and before Dak could comment, she quickly finished. “Anyway, I’m on my way out the door, and he’s still sleeping; Gus isn’t home yet, so I wanted to set an alarm to wake him, and what time would that be?”

“Jones? Jones is asleep at your house?” Emma just rolled her eyes at his tone, and quickly looked at the clock. Damn, she needed to get going ten minutes ago! “Um, Emma, honey, I don’t think...”

“Dak, just give me a time that he needs to be in, okay? I’m so late already, I need to leave.”

“Well, he’s scheduled to be back by ten thirty this morning, but...”

Emma smiled as she did the calculations quickly in her head. So, he needed to be up and out of her home no later than ten to make it to work, and quarter to ten to stop at his place for fresh clothes, so if she set the alarm for nine fifteen he could get up, shower, and have some coffee and breakfast before needing to leave. “Thanks, Dak.” Emma quickly hung up the phone on a sputtering Nemo and grabbed a piece of paper to leave Killian a note.

Running upstairs, leaving the note where he could find it, setting the alarm, and gently brushing the hair from his forehead, she bent down and softly kissed his lips before running downstairs. As she headed for the door with her coffee, book bag, and papers in hand, Emma stopped in her tracks. With a huge smile, she reversed course to go out the side door in the kitchen to the garage. Killian moved around in his sleep at the sound of the not so quiet engine of the GTO kicking to life and leaving the garage. The driver gunned it, and took off down the street at a not so legal speed.

~*~

Emma hummed happily on her way to the university, loving the smell of the interior, the feel of the conditioned leather, and the look of the soft trim of buckskin heading with the nice pleats. It wasn’t until she was almost to the university that she noticed her speed and realized she should back it off before she picked up a cop needing his morning quota of speeders. But she quickly shrugged off the thought, she was in too good of a mood. The feel of a powerful raging machine under her hands just felt too good to give up. In truth, she would love to be riding a different type of powerful raging machine...but he looked so tired!

Emma chuckled to herself, thinking of his reaction if she asked him to fix a speeding ticket for her, what acts and promises would she have to seduce and bribe him with, to get him to do that one little favor for her. Emma completely ignored the fact that she could easily get August, Liam, or even Dak to fix a speeding ticket without having to promise sexual compensation, but where was the fun in that?

…

As Tink walked from the staff parking lot located between the Anthropology and History buildings, she turned to admire the muscle car she could hear coming from a mile away. The speeding GTO was a sight to see, a brush into the past. An exhilarated Emma whizzed by to whip into her assigned parking spot.

“Someone looks happy.” Emma turned at the sound of Tink’s voice and smiled at her friend. “So you want to share some of whatever you’re taking?”

“Sorry, this is something I refuse to share, but if it makes you happy, I’ll bring you over a cup of coffee later?”

Tink just snorted at the offer making Emma smile even wider. “The gut rot that destroyed Storybrooke? Thanks, but no. So, come on, Emma, what's putting that smile on your face and making you shift uncomfortably on your feet?” Tink’s eyes narrowed as she spied a mark just barely concealed on Emma’s neck, the darker lips, and the moving around. “Dammit, you did it! You did the totally delectable, totally fuckable, Detective Sweetie!”

“Um, I need to get to my office, so why don’t we...” Emma tried to head off toward her building, but Tink wouldn’t have it.

“No you don’t, missy! We’re talking the dirt, girlygirl, and I’m buying the coffee. I think we’re showcasing Crème Brule as the coffee of the day, stolen from the English Department,” Tink said as she dragged Emma with her toward the History Building.

It was a while later when Emma finally emerged to go to her office, leaving a hot and bothered Tink fanning herself. Emma just laughed. It was a good thing she didn’t go into any in-depth details or they’d have needed to call the fire station to come hose Tink down. They never got past the guessing:

"Ten minutes?"

"Nope."

"Half an hour? A man can do a lot in half an hour!"

"No."

"Oh my god, not an hour?"

"Nope."

"Nope?"

"Longer."

Tink almost fainted. Ever since David teased them when leaving the day before, Tink was a helpless victim of curiosity.

"How was he?”

Emma couldn’t believe Tink asked that. _How was he?_ He was...Oh boy, he was... Emma stopped on her way down the stairs to the basement. He was raw, cut, without enhancement... Oh god! Latex free, and  _au naturel_! Oh, man! Stupid! STUPID!!!

Emma rushed the rest of the way to her office, opening the door and quickly tossing her bags and stuff down in a heap. Grabbing her desk calendar, she flipped back counting the days from the last circled entry, mentally doing sums.

Reaching for the phone in relief, Emma called asking someone to please bring her a coffee, and then she called her doctor’s office, asking them to call in a birth control pill prescription for her. She never bothered to renew them last time, since she was on a sexual hiatus induced by excessive work, stress, and no interesting men in sight. As her last physical was only six months old, all she had to do was stop at the pharmacy to pick up her prescription.

Emma looked up to see Belle entering the door with a cup of monkeybrain coffee and a paper under her arm. Grabbing some cash, and the ten Killian gave her the day before for his incessant cursing, Emma stood up. “Thank god, Belle! Here’s some cash. I need you to run down to Dark Star Pharmacy and pick up my prescription and a box, a huge box of extra-large, extra strong, extra protective, durable condoms with the extra spermicide--ribbed if possible and...” Emma said in a muffled tone as she dug in her bag for more money, “you know you can’t be too careful, so get me some spermicidal gel too, you know the contraceptive type they use with diaphragms, largest tube possible and...”

Emma paused and looked up when Belle didn’t make a sound. The young woman was sheet white, trembling, and swaying on her feet. Tossing the money on the desk with her bag, Emma quickly rounded the desk and grabbed her, holding her firmly, while looking around for a place for her to sit. Giving up, she kicked the stacks of books off a chair and maneuvered Belle into it. “Belle?” Emma was worried. Belle wasn’t talking, and tears were welling up in her eyes.

Emma took the coffee and put it down on the desk, then reached for the paper Belle was clutching as if it were a lifeline. Leaning back, Emma opened the paper and saw the headline, “ _Three Officers Down in Drug Bust.”_

Emma felt her heart sink as she quickly scanned the story. It was Killian’s bust from last night, the something that went wrong. But it was the information that one officer was declared dead at the scene, and the remaining two were transported to the hospital and were in critical condition--Detective Liam Nemo’s name jumped off the page, choking Emma and making her look sharply at Belle.

Liam and Belle knew each other very well, and when Greyson LeGume was still alive they used to go everywhere together. But after Greyson died, Liam couldn’t stop blaming himself for Greyson’s death, so he avoided Belle like the plague. It had been a difficult and lonely year for both Liam and Belle, losing Greyson and each other’s friendship. Dammit, no wonder Dak’s voice had sounded so different this morning.

“Belle, let me call the hospital and see if there's any news.” Emma reached behind her and took the coffee and handed it back to Belle. “Here, you drink this. I think you need it more than I do.”

Emma reached over and grabbed the phone to make a few phone calls. Keeping an eye on Belle, she talked to the Intensive Care Unit clerk and asked to be transferred to the nurse taking care of Liam. Normally it would have been near impossible to get information, but Emma told them she was his step sister, and wanted to know how he was and if he had a comfortable night. After talking for a while, Emma got the information and visiting hours. Hanging up she settled back and watched Belle for a few moments. The young woman looked shell-shocked.

“Belle?” Emma knelt beside her, lifting her head and looking in her eyes. “We need to go, Belle. Liam is waiting for us.” Emma got to her feet and grabbed her purse, leading Belle out of her office stopping to lock the door. They stopped to get Belle’s things and leave a message with the secretary to have her classes cancelled for the day.

In the car ride over to the hospital, Belle was silent. When she finally spoke, it was so soft that Emma almost didn’t heard it. “I can’t lose him too. I can’t.”

Emma frowned at the road, and tried to keep the trembling out of her hands as she drove. Liam was a wonderful man, funny, and kind, but somehow he retained that sense of a young man with horrible humor and a carefree attitude. He was still in critical condition. They only had him in surgery last night for an hour, but he lost so much blood and shock was a problem. According to the nurse, he had taken a bullet through the shoulder, ripping through arteries and nerves, tearing away muscle. Despite being out of surgery fast, his time in the recovery room was over eight hours before he was stable enough to transfer to the ICU.

Emma wasn’t surprised to see Dak, and other members of the P.D. at the hospital. “Dak?” she called out.

He turned to see Emma and stopped at the sight of Belle. He hadn’t seen Belle since the day they buried Greyson LeGume, and Dak felt bad he hadn’t checked on the young widow. From the look of her, as she twisted a Kleenex in her hands, this wasn’t easy for her. Belle stopped and considered the ICU without entering. It was the same place she sat waiting with Liam for Greyson to come out of surgery and recovery, but he never made it that far.

“Emma.” Dak reached over and kissed her on the cheek, and then took Belle in his arms in a strong hug. He looked at Emma over Belle’s head, and they both seemed to share a common understanding. Belle needed to see Liam immediately. Dak nodded and led Belle into the ICU room where Liam was sleeping. Emma followed slowly, waiting and watching from the doorway, as Belle approached the bed, took his hand and then sat at the chair beside the bed and cried.

~*~

Killian didn’t even bother to look up from the bed when the annoying buzzing went off. Reaching his hand over, he slapped at the sound, becoming more frustrated when the noise wouldn’t stop. He considered shooting it with his gun, but settled for yanking the cord from the wall. Killian sighed deeply and rested for a moment longer, enjoying the feel of the bed, the comfort of it, the smell of Emma. Emma...!

Looking up from the pillow he knew immediately he was alone, and a quick glance at the clock told him it was just after nine. Rolling over onto his back, his eyes spied a white piece of paper on the pillow next to him. Grabbing it and lying back, Killian read Emma’s note:

“ _Killian, according to your Captain you’re to get your worthless butt to work by ten thirty. There’s coffee in the kitchen and food. Feed my cat. This time you get off lucky. Next time I’ll have you arrest yourself for breaking and entering. Emma.”_  

Killian smirked and looked around the room, noticing his clothes and his hanging holster. He had taken it off last night as he walked up the stairs and had dropped it on the floor by the bed when he sat down.

Emma pissed him off last night. When he got to her place, he’d needed to see her. Didn’t know why, just did. So he’d used the house key on the chain with the car keys to open her door. The house had been quiet, and feeling stupid for even thinking about waking her, he went to get a beer from the refrigerator, instead.

Her voice had stopped him before he even opened the door. “Don’t take the last piece of chicken.”

That pissed him off. Not the chicken, but that she would just say that to an unknown perpetrator, instead of being quiet, hiding, calling 911, or arming herself, she tells them to leave her chicken alone and goes back to sleep. Her fearlessness and reckless devil-may-care attitude pissed him off. Didn’t she understand how devastated people in her life would be if she was murdered in her bed, physically harmed, or raped? Instead, she calmly turned over and went back to sleep. The woman was scary and a menace!

It changed. Something altered from the moment she opened an eye and looked at him, and then told him to leave her alone or come to bed. Everything changed. His life skewed, went off kilter. Or maybe it finally righted itself, he didn’t know. All he knew was he’d had the best night’s sleep in what seemed like a lifetime.  Her hands on his body, her gentle voice, and the smell of her as he lay across her body, her hands rubbing his back, gentling him to sleep and letting him forget, and find rest, were a comfort he couldn’t yet comprehend.

Killian didn’t even want to think about what happened hours earlier, not at that moment. When he finally dissected the scenes of making love to Emma, he wanted to be alone, have lots of time and a beer--and possibly Emma somewhere close by. He needed to get up and go to the hospital on his way to work, but first he needed to call David and tell him where to pick him up. It was the sound of the door opening below that pulled him out of his thoughts. Not even pausing, he reached for his gun and flipped off the safety, standing to train his gun directly at the muzzle of August Booth’s similarly aimed gun.

The two men stood frozen in time in a Mexican standoff, neither backing down. Killian realized what it must look like to August seeing him roll out of Emma’s bed totally naked, and in truth, it was exactly what it looked like. What he saw in August’s eyes made him sweat. The man was fingering the trigger, thinking, really thinking about shooting him. Finally, Killian slid the safety back into place, turned it over, and raised his hands, moving his head to the side with his eyebrow raising in question, as if to say, _Whatcha gonna do?_

With a reluctant sigh, August copied his actions and put his own gun away. He just shook his head and walked to the door under the stairs saying, “That’s twice. Next time, Jones, I’ll shoot ya!

Killian returned his weapon to his holster and went to shower. Before he went downstairs, he looked at the bed and seeing the rumpled sheets, a frown creased his brow. Picking up his stuff, he went down to pour himself a cup of coffee. Not even bothering to look at the door when it opened, he calmly poured August a cup, too.

“You used all the hot water,” August accused as he picked up the cup and took a sip. It was getting strong since it had been a few hours since Emma made it, but still better than P.D. coffee. Killian finally looked at August, they stared at each other, neither speaking nor saying what was understood. If Killian hurt Emma, August would find him, and it wouldn’t be pretty. Killian just nodded his head that he understood.

August walked around him and grabbed the bagels, some eggs, and bacon from the refrigerator. He turned and passed Killian the bagels to toast as he pulled out cooking pans to break six eggs in one pan and a pound of bacon in the other. “We need to get some bread. All Em seems to insist on having in the house is bagels. I think she thinks it’s a food group, but I like toast.”

Killian just grunted. He wasn’t sure he was necessarily going to be a fixture in the household, but then again Emma’s home was much more comfortable than his, and he wasn’t sure he wanted another female in his home. A man could only replace everything in his life so many times. His last relationship took everything when she left, including the ice trays. _What kind of sick bitch took the ice trays?_ Killian would’ve arrested her for the ice trays alone if he could’ve remembered her damn name! One thing was sure, he wasn’t anywhere near finished with Emma Swan, and if she wanted his ice trays? Bloody hell, he would bring them over himself!

August poured three eggs and half the bacon onto a plate for Killian as Killian passed him two bagels. It was the cell phone in Killian’s jacket that finally broke the deadlock they had over the last cup of coffee, as August poured it into his cup while Killian answered his phone.

“Jones.”

“Yeah, that’s why I called your cell phone hoping it would be you.”

“Nolan, you’re such a loser,” Killian said, smiling at his partner’s voice.

“I’m on my way to pick you up so get your crap together.”

Killian quickly interrupted David before he could hang up the phone. “I’m not at home.”

Killian could hear the pause, and the hesitation in David’s voice. “Okay. So, where do I find you?”

“Emma’s.”

August looked over at Killian as he talked to his partner. Killian seemed to be squirming while talking, like somehow having people know he was at Emma’s made him uncomfortable.

“I see. I’ll be there in ten.” David hung up.

“You go to the hospital last night?” August asked. Killian turned to look at August and nodded.

“It was a bloodbath,” August continued. “The kid, Wilson, he was a good man. He would’ve made a good officer, a real asset. We’ll find Gold if it kills us.”

Killian, again, just nodded. He didn’t want to talk about it, not about Liam, not about Jim Knight, a twenty year old rookie, and not the patrolman, John Little, a twenty-five year veteran who was not expected to ever walk again. Gold was still out there, walking, living, and breathing. They would find him, but at what cost, and how long? “Is there any news on Liam?” August asked.

Killian shuttered and a lifeless look moved over his face. “No. We stayed last night until he was out of surgery, once he was in recovery there was no reason to not go home. We’ll stop on our way in this morning.”

The knock came at the door before August could say any more, and Killian was relieved. He had no desire to discuss it. He stood to gather his stuff as August walked to the door. “David,” August greeted as he gestured David into the home.

“Hey Gus. Thanks for the assist last night. We were really pinned. You and the others showing up made it possible to get John and Liam to the hospital,” David said with gratitude.

August just nodded.

It was a bad deal last night, the place they were staking out was hit by a competitor of Gold’s who was running other drug shops across town. Before the cops could move in, they found themselves pinned down in a shootout, the ammo flying around was cop killers- armor piercing rounds that tore through metal and Kevlar like butter.

The young officer, Knight, John Little’s new trainee, never stood a chance. He took three bullets dead center, with one taking out his aorta. He lay in the street as his heart pumped all his blood out of his body, his arms and legs twitching. Liam, who watched him go down, tried to stop John from going after him and just barely pulled John back undercover, but not before a bullet ripped through his lower back severing his spine.

Liam, seeing the young man in the middle of the street bleeding to death, couldn’t leave him- not after losing Greyson, so he went after him. It took Killian going after both men to get them out of the street, but by the time he reached Liam, Jim Knight was already gone, and Liam had taken a bullet through his shoulder.

David was covering Killian while he was unprotected, but it was the arrival of August and a few other officers from Vice that finally turned the fight, and the drug runners fled. During the shootout, Gold, their main objective, slipped away, and by the time the dust had settled, he was long gone. All Killian could see was the blood everywhere, fallen friends and comrades, a few dead drug runners, and the shutdown of a drug lab. But the big man, Gold, won again because he was still free.

August just nodded, his eyes almost as blank as Killian’s. David quickly looked at his partner putting his shoulder holster on and headed for the door. “Come on partner, we need to stop and get you some fresh clothes, and to check on Liam before we hit the precinct.” David opened the door and gave August a nod. “Later, Booth.”

~*~

When Killian saw her, she was leaning against the door jamb of the ICU, looking in on Liam. Coming up behind her, he leaned his body into hers, and was surprised when she seemed to sense his presence and leaned back to rest on him. His arms came up to encircle her waist, taking more of her body against his. The sensation of her leaning on him felt so good, he didn’t notice the look of shock on David’s face as he took in their stance. He wasn’t the only one watching them. Dak Nemo was too.

“Who’s that?” Killian asked Emma, nodding to the brunette beside Liam.

“Belle French, my assistant. She and Liam, they’re friends, or at least they were. Belle was engaged to Greyson LeGume,” Emma told him as they continued to watch Liam sleep, as well as Belle who had laid her head down while holding Liam’s hand and fallen asleep.

David and Killian looked at each other. They knew Greyson, but had never met his girl. Looking at the small body holding tight to Liam’s hand, Killian felt a sense, a touch of knowing, that somehow Belle was someone to Liam. Looking over at David he saw the same flash come over David’s face.

Emma looked back at Killian and smiled, and then at David. “I need to get back to the university. I think I’ll leave her here and check back later. Belle seems to need to know he’ll be okay.” Emma patted Killian on the stomach as she moved away from him and started out of the ICU. David started to tell Killian to go talk to Emma, but before he could, Killian was already following her.

“Emma!” She turned to see him coming up behind her. She stopped, with her head cocked to one side. He looked better, more rested. Killian didn’t know what he wanted to say, or why he was even running after her, but somehow he owed her for last night. Knowing he needed to say something, but having no idea what to say, it was just too much for him. Dammit, she was a menace!

“We need bread.”

Bloody hell. Damn August for putting that in his head! We need bread. Smooth. Great. Just give her the idea that you are taking over her life, her home, and her body. Okay, the body thing was okay, that he could do.

“Good morning to you, too,” Emma said as she grabbed his shirt and pulled him into the stairwell. She kissed him on the mouth sweetly. After they pulled apart to breathe, she pulled him back for a longer more intense kiss, sucking his tongue deep into her mouth, savoring the taste of her toothpaste on him, and feeling the rough rub of his tongue against her own, loving the sound of a groan in his throat when she gently scraped his tongue with her teeth, nipping him. The prickly brush of his scruff was a bonus she never expected to enjoy as much as she did. Killian pulled her close and got into the kiss. This was something he could do. Once again she ignored when he didn’t have the right words and took their relationship back to physical. It worried him that she seemed happy to just be physical without emotional ties, but it was still early.

“What are you doing for lunch?” he mumbled, his lips still on hers. Killian almost groaned aloud, and would have pulled away self consciously if Emma wasn’t still kissing him, if her hand hadn’t found its way inside his shirt to rest against his skin, and if she didn’t make kissing seem like a sexual act all its own and not just...a kiss. What the bloody hell was wrong with him? What are you doing for lunch? Was he planning on taking her somewhere, to come by and share lunch with her? No. So, why the hell was it his business anyway?

Emma sort of heard his question. It didn’t register at first. She was busy with him, with his mouth, running her hands up his arms. God, he felt wonderful... really, really good! “Oh, lunch… I’ve got a date.” Emma leaned in again to kiss him, when the firmness of his hands stopped her.

“Date?” Killian’s whole body stiffened. Date? None of his business. One night in her bed hardly constituted a commitment, but a date? Killian tried to convince himself that it was normal, that the sense of outrage was a normal condition that any man would feel after having crawled out of her bed mere hours ago and now hearing she was off dating some other man. This wasn’t jealousy, nope just calm rational courtesy, and politeness.

Emma frowned at him stopping her from kissing him, until her eyes lit on the skin of his neck, the hollow between his clavicle and moving toward it, she said, “Yes with Marco. He's a Professor in the department, a sweet old man, my favorite. I wish he wasn’t retiring soon.” Killian relaxed enough that Emma was finally able to reach his neck, to run her mouth over his skin, to tongue the hollow before trailing her lips up to his Adam’s apple, and his moan made her want more. He was going to ask just how old, old Marco was, but became distracted.

Killian pushed her roughly against the wall beside the door and putting his arm around her waist to hold her tightly to him, his other hand in her hair and curling around her neck, he brought her mouth back to his. He liked the sound coming from her throat, the husky "Yes", as she wrapped an arm around his neck and lifted to get even closer to him, even though there was no more space. Part of him knew he needed to stop, they both needed to go to work, but he wanted to stay just a little bit longer. Last night she helped him more than he could say.

When they pulled apart, Killian heard her voice, the sound reaching his ears, but confusing the issue. She said the words that he could not. “Thank you.”

“What? What for?” Killian let her pull farther back so he could see her. Her clear, sincere eyes made him wish that he was a different man, because he liked how he could see her, understand her in ways he knew he couldn’t let her see him.

“Liam. Last night. Dak told me.” Emma took his face between her hands and kissed him gently on the lips. “Thank you for risking your life to save him. He’s like a brother to me, and I don’t want to lose him.” Emma paused, and for a second Killian saw a shadow pass before her eyes, a memory she refused to let see the light of day. “Just thank you. He and August, they’re my family.”

Killian was shocked to hear her thanking him for what he considered one of the monumental mistakes in his life. That bust had cost lives and for what? But all Emma saw was the results, that Liam was still alive, that he would survive, and that was all that mattered. “Emma...” He wanted to be blasé about it, to play on the hero she saw him to be when he’d saved another’s life. To say something charming, to keep her from seeing his true self, but she was kissing him again.

“What time do you get off work?” It didn’t seem possible that one person, a small slip of a girl, could find so many ways to silence him, to so baffle him. She never acted the way he expected, never said what he thought she would say, and damn near never demanded anything of him but his body. In return she left him sexually aroused, sated or momentarily satisfied, titillated, and amazed! So, when Killian stared at her in stony silence, once again caught in some Emma web of unknown origin, he didn’t let the confusion paralyze him.

“Why?” Killian continued to hold her, to press her between him and the wall letting her feel his body in hopes she wouldn’t notice how unbalanced she made him. Bloody hell, he had to win a few rounds with her.

“Well, I was just wondering. I’m coming back here after work to see Liam and check on Belle, and I was hoping you’d meet me.” Emma moved her hand up his shirt to play with the buttons, and to pluck at the front. “I drove the GTO this morning.” Emma looked up at him and said with a deadpan look and complete honesty, “I felt good and wanted to feel some raw power under my hands.” Her body rubbed up against his, pressing against the thickness that had been making itself known to her since he pushed her against the wall. Killian had no problem catching the double meaning. She was fearless, without inhibition and shame. God, he loved it, loved the blatant honesty. “So, I was thinking if you weren’t busy and didn’t have to work, maybe, just maybe you would like to come with me to take the GTO out and give her some room to run?” Killian’s heart sped up at the sensation of her rubbing against him, the whole idea of feeling the roar of the car, racing fast and furious toward open roads, and Emma trapped under him in the wide, comfortable front bench seat of the GTO. God, they didn’t make cars like they used to.

Killian closed his eyes and moved his mouth along her beautiful, graceful neck, groaning into her soft skin. “Can I drive?”

Emma heard David walking down the hall calling Killian’s name. Pushing him off her, she reached for the door to lead them out of the stairwell.

With a wicked laugh, she started to walk through the door, and looked back. “Get real! No way!” Looking down the hall, she waved at David. When Killian came to a stop right next to her she whispered, “But I’ll let you drive in other ways, and remember...” Emma leaned in to kiss him quickly before releasing him as David approached, “I swallow.”

Killian laughed noticeably at that. Outrageous as always, that was what she was, and he said, “So do I.”

Emma kissed him quickly. “I know.” They stood looking at each other, breathing a little ragged as David caught up to them. Emma smiled and turned to talk to David. “I guess you need the Detective back?”

David looked from one to the other and gulped at the electricity and sexual heat in the air. This was so different from anything he had ever seen, and Killian barely seemed able to withstand the intensity. The man was sinking fast. David smiled to himself, because it was good to see, and a long time coming. “Sorry, Emma, I do need him back, as sorry a state as he's in, but we’re needed downtown.” David liked this woman a lot. She was special in ways he didn’t even know how to describe. “You ready to go, partner?” David asked Killian.

“Yeah.” Killian reached into his pocket and pulled out a card, passing it to Emma. “This is my personal cell number. Call me when you get back here tonight so I can let you know about the ride.” Killian smirked at the redness on Emma’s cheeks as she looked down at the card. _Was she embarrassed?_ Killian didn’t want to admit to being intrigued by the thought of what it would take to embarrass Emma. When she looked up at him he saw that he was mistaken. This wasn't embarrassment, but pure unadulterated lust! Killian couldn’t take his eyes off her, stuck in the moment again. It took David clearing his throat to make Killian look at his partner and frown. Quickly looking back at Emma he had to know, “Are you still going if I can’t make it?”

Emma smiled at him and walked past, patting him on the stomach. “Of course. I want to blow out the cobwebs. This has been a rotten week; too stressful.” Emma smiled at David as she walked away. Suddenly a thought occurred to her as she was leaving them, looking back at Killian she asked, “Hey, did you feed my cat?”

~*~

 


	4. Running Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone reading this. And thanks for your comments. I really enjoy reading them and hearing your thoughts.
> 
> You all know this work would not be what it is without the skilled work of ilovemesomekillianjones. She's an awesome beta and an amazing friend.
> 
> There is a chapter warning for this one: minor character death (but I guess you all already knew that :) )
> 
> Enjoy the chapter guys.

**Chapter 4: Running Free**

David and Killian had a full load on their plate for the day. They needed to check up on Sean Herman’s past, his possible connections, and conduct interviews with people who knew him. Though both Killian and David knew the Herman murder wasn’t an act of revenge or personal vendetta, they still had to check out all possibilities until a motive became clear. Six of their other cases also needed attention.

“Have you heard from Blanchard yet?” Killian asked David. Mary Margaret was the senior investigator on the forensics team working on the museum material, so she was the person who was supposed to report to them, the primary investigating team.

“No. Maybe we should swing by later today to see how it’s progressing. I think Emma mentioned they were closing down on Friday to attend Herman’s funeral.”

Killian became quiet and thoughtful. Both he and David would also attend the funeral, and then another one for Officer Jim Knight, a rookie cop barely twenty years old. He left parents, brothers and sisters, and a fiancée.

David looked over at Killian and knew what he was thinking about. “Your dress blues clean?” he asked.

Killian nodded. He had them cleaned the last time he wore them, after the last funeral he attended, for Greyson LeGume.

They drove in silence for a few moments with Killian watching the scenery pass, almost unaware that he was still thinking about Emma. She was like a puzzle, an enigma in his life. Even though he barely knew her, he felt closer to her than he did David and Regina, and that just didn’t seem right. It was her eyes, the way she quickly saw everything, made an instinctive guess, and she suddenly knew a person or understood something about them. They had only spoken for a few moments, a few times, and most of the time they spoke about murder, and yet he felt he knew her, knew about her.

“Killian, about Emma...” David never finished as Killian cut him off.

“None of your business, mate,” Killian said quickly. He swore under his breath. Did the woman worm her way into every man’s thoughts?

“Understood,” David acknowledged. He was quiet for a moment, but couldn’t let it go. “I just wanted to say that I like her, I really like her a lot.”

“I like her a lot, too,” Killian said quietly.

David sighed. Killian was giving small concise responses, putting up ‘Do Not Trespass’ signs everywhere. “I don’t want to live to see her crushed under you.”

“Understood.” Killian continued to look out the window as they finally pulled into the P.D. garage. He didn’t want to crush Emma under his boots either, or hurt her. The thought of causing her harm bothered him more than such a prospect had ever bothered him before.

He was always honest in his affairs. He never made promises he couldn’t keep, or gave the impression that he’d stay forever. But in just two days of knowing this woman, he was running scared, worried that for the first time in his life, he was the one who was going to be crushed, that he was the one who would want more. Because this was something he never expected to find or feel, it was leaving him unbalanced. He kept wanting to use her cruelly, as he had so many other women, to shake her awake, say, "This is me! This is what I am!" But then he would watch as his arms reached for her, held her close, protected her, and turned to her for comfort. His body was surely being invaded by a stranger.

~*~

Before Emma left the hospital, she’d detoured to the Family Medical Clinic to look through their brochures about fertility, birth control, and other information about family planning. Since there were no pamphlets on how to avoid becoming pregnant by a tall, strong, wildly sexy, pissy detective whose sperm looked as though they could impregnate at twenty paces, she took everything they had to offer. She stopped at the drugstore to pick up her prescription and much needed precautionary supplies, before finally making it back to her office.

Emma stopped to talk to Cleo and check on her classes that were not only given a reading day today, but were dismissed tomorrow so she could attend Sean Herman’s funeral. Her messages were in their usual abundance, so taking them, and a cup of coffee with her, Emma went to work. She cleared most of her calls, and a proposed dissertation, a little before noon. Picking up the phone, she called over to Professor Geppeti’s office to see if he was ready for lunch. Marco loved the faculty dining room, so Emma quickly scanned her weekly menu sheet while the phone rang. Frowning at the continued ringing, Emma heard the clicking of the operator exchange system forwarding her call to the secretary’s office.

“Hey, Meg? This is Emma. I was calling to take Professor Geppeti to lunch today. We had a date. Did he leave without me?” Emma waited and listened to Meg, Marco’s secretary, explain how the professor hadn’t come in today. After hanging up, Emma thought about it for a few moments. This disturbed her, Marco hadn’t missed a day of work in over forty years. Worried because of the warning he gave her the day before, and the uncharacteristic absence, Emma reluctantly dug through her bag for the card Killian gave her that morning. Emma bit her lip for a moment, and finally reached for the phone. The worst that could happen was he’d think she was a hysterical female, and tell her not to worry, or to check it out herself.

“Jones.” She smiled at his rough, deep voice. Emma was beginning to suspect Killian had a hateful relationship going with his cell, that it rang only when he was busy, or perhaps otherwise engaged.

“Hi, am I interrupting you in the middle of something? You slapping around a suspect or terrorizing a witness, copper?” Emma didn’t even bother to identify herself. The sound of his voice made her breath shudder in her throat, so the least he could do was pretend she affected him, too.

“Yeah, you’re always interrupting something Professor, but I'm beginning to believe you like that.” Emma laughed at the smile in his voice, the almost sarcastic drawl. “What can I do for you, Emma?”

Emma’s heart sped up as she thought about it for a second. “Dammit, Detective, I called about something serious and you’ve got me wanting to make lewd and erotic suggestions to you over the phone. Okay, you’ll have to be denied a lascivious call until later, preferably when I am lying in bed all fresh from the shower, naked, and lonely...” Emma smiled to herself at the audible gulp and groan on the other end of line. Hmm, Detective Jones might have to chase her down and arrest her for illegal activities after all! Suddenly Emma’s voice went serious with all the teasing gone. “Killian, I really do have a problem, and I am hoping you will tell me that I’m just being an alarmist.”

Killian sat up straighter and his demeanor took on a more serious posture. David, who was chuckling at hearing Killian’s side of the conversation, watched Killian react to whatever Emma was saying. David thought it was revealing that it had barely been an hour and a half since Emma left them and she was already calling, obviously propositioning Killian over the phone. But suddenly his partner’s mood shifted. Killian listened and took down information, asking Emma a few questions, and then told her he would check it out and get back to her.

“What is it, Killian?” David was worried, as Killian quickly dialed a number and sent a black and white unit to check out an address.

“Emma was supposed to have lunch with an old professor in her department. He never showed up for work today, nor did he call in, not even his secretary knows where he is.” Killian moved stuff around on his desk, and searched for the Herman file. Nope, Professor Geppeti wasn’t on their list of people to question. “The thing is he’s old, retirement age, so maybe he had an accident or heart attack last night. I’m having a unit check out his home, look for his car, and if the car isn’t at his house, check out the university parking lot.”

David’s interest piqued at this much unease over one missing professor. “Is there a reason to chase this man down? Is he part of our investigation?”

Killian scratched at his ear and leaned back in his chair looking at David. “No he isn’t, but Emma is worried, and I’m learning to respect her instincts. She also told me that Professor Geppeti came to seek her out, yesterday. He insisted she have lunch with him today, and told her that she must never be alone, and that he had things to tell her, things she ‘needed to know’.”

David sat up even straighter. “He gave her a warning? A warning that she was in danger?”

“Something like that. With everything that is going on Emma is even more concerned that the professor appears to be missing.” Killian stood to take some reports from a clerk heading to their work area. “Emma said the professor has never missed a day of work, not in forty years.” Killian looked over at his partner as he passed him part of their caseload and lab results that were ready for review. David’s eyes took on the same glint of apprehension and seriousness as Killian’s.

It was almost an hour before they received a report. Killian listened to the information, then told the officers to wait onsite until he arrived. David stood up, already putting on his jacket when he heard Killian’s request.

“The professor?”

“Yeah.” Killian grabbed his own jacket, then stopped in quickly to let Nemo know

that they needed to check something out at the university.

“According to his neighbor, the professor never returned home last night, his morning paper wasn’t brought in, and his cat was outside. The unit checked his license tags and found his car still parked in the university staff lot. They went to his offices, but no one has answered. They're waiting for us to proceed.”

David knew what Killian was expecting to find, and with the warning to Emma, he was cautious about letting anyone enter another possible crime scene before him. They quickly made the run to the university, Killian called the Anthropology Department to find Emma, but she was already over at the museum working. Killian didn’t bother to call her there though, he didn’t want her anywhere near the Anthropology Department. The officers were waiting in their unit when they arrived, got out to follow them into the building.

The professor’s secretary, Meg, was happy to open the professor’s office since she too was troubled about his absence. It was her horrified gasp as she opened the door that had David reaching in and pulling her back out of the doorway. Killian moved past them and swore, not even caring that he’d have to pass David a dollar. Professor Geppeti’s life was drained out on his desk.

David took the secretary away to calm her down, and the officers were ordered to secure the floor, close off the halls on either side, and check out the rest of the offices on the third floor. Killian called in support teams and reported to Captain Nemo. Finally, standing in the doorway, he called over to the museum.

“Museum of Horror. If it used to talk or walk, we’d love it...” Killian heard the cheerful voice of a man with laughter in the background.

“I need to talk to Professor Swan,” Killian demanded, not caring about the harshness of his voice.

“Sure thing, hold on.” Killian waited as he heard the young man calling out for Emma, some laughter and finally Emma.

“Hello?” She sounded happy, like she was busy doing what she loved with people she liked and nothing could touch her, but he knew that was going to change.

“It’s Killian.” He could almost hear her body bristling at the sound of his voice, the lack of emotion, and the cold biting tone, telling her that something was wrong, that her concerns were valid. “I need you to listen to me carefully, lass. I want you to go, right now, get in your car and drive home. Stay there until I come. Do not go to your office, or stop for any reason! Do you understand, Emma?”

He could hear her breath catching, and the sounds from her were small and cracking. She didn’t ask, because she knew he didn’t have time to tell her. “Yes, I understand. I’m leaving now.” Killian sighed, feeling a sense of relief as she hung up the phone, his gaze landing on the executed body of Geppeti. Whatever the professor knew was never shared with Emma, but whoever the killer was didn’t know that, and if the professor thought Emma was in danger, then that was enough to remove her from harm's way.

David came back and watched Killian silently as he disconnected the phone. “Emma?”

“I sent her home. She doesn’t need to be here for this,” Killian said as they moved into the room and assessed the corpse. Both men were careful not to disturb the scene, keeping it intact for the forensic team. Whoever did this either entered the room behind the professor, very quietly, taking him by surprise, or the professor was expecting them. There were no signs of struggle or any indication that he was startled. It appeared as if he accepted death and waited patiently. “This is wrong, something here is off.”

David silently watched as Killian circled the table again and again. This was what made Killian who he was, what made Killian the better detective, the senior partner. He had a sixth sense about events, about how they occurred. It was as if he could see the results, and could visualize in his head what happened, what events had to occur to lead up to this final result. It wasn’t magical or even supernatural. It was just Killian. Almost like he had lived a thousand lives and watched a thousand deaths, as though he could understand what death looked like in its many forms, as it was met. Every crime scene seemed to awaken a deeper understanding, a long-forgotten memory in Killian, and in that memory, was the knowledge of how it had to have been done.

“The killer entered from the doorway, silently, but not trying to be silent. The professor knew what was coming. He waited patiently for death. Look at his hands, David. They're folded, almost in prayer, waiting. The killer had to pull the head back to slit the throat, and he didn’t struggle or even try to get away. He knew his killer, and he knew that he was going to die.”

David looked at the scene, conceptualizing it the way Killian did, and the gravity of the situation hit him. “Do you think the killer knew he was going to talk to Emma?”

“I think the killer thought the professor had outlived his usefulness, that he was no longer necessary, and was actually a threat.” Killian still circled, then decided to examine the table from a different angle. He crouched down to look under it, to understand what was eluding him. “The blood.”

David looked at Killian sharply, and then back at the blood covered table. The blood had saturated a manuscript on the desk, and it was congealed in a puddle surrounding the area where the professor’s head rested in death.

“What about the blood? It seems pretty gruesome to me.” Death was a strange thing; it was frightening and offensive at the same time. It robbed the dead of their dignity, and demanded that justice be served.

“No, it’s not enough,” Killian said absentmindedly. His voice was cold and emotionless, almost originating from somewhere else. David looked at the table and couldn’t imagine this blood was less than it should be, because this scene looked nothing short of a slaughterhouse. “There should be more, a lot more. And his shirt is open at the front.” Killian looked around, wanting the forensic people to record the scene so he could move the body to see what additional damage had been done.

Mary Margaret and Ruby arrived from the museum and Killian immediately sent Ruby to help keep the police lines firm and talk to the university security He didn’t need her involving herself in the thick of the crime scene. Mary Margaret discreetly interviewed the poor distraught secretary and upset students.

Finally Mary Margaret made her way toward the detectives, “Killian?” She gasped as she reached them, it was the first time she had really seen a crime scene, and caught the aroma that accompanied death. Her job was primarily in the lab, working the physical evidence. This was a job she usually left to the crime scene investigators.

“Mary Margaret?” Killian was surprised she’d called him by his first name. Usually it was Detective or Jones, and after two years of knowing her, sort of, finally she took liberties.

“Emma called just a few moments ago, she got home safely,” she told him. Mary Margaret was surprised how worried she was over Killian knowing that, and even more stunned that Emma made her think of Killian as ‘Killian’, and not ‘Jones’.

Killian looked unresponsive to the information, and then shocked, and then grateful. It was like the crime scene took control of him, pushing all noises and other thoughts into the background. But, for the first time, as he searched and investigated the scene, all he could think was, _what unholy mess was Emma Swan embroiled in_? He was surprised to realize just how much he needed Mary Margaret’s update about Emma, how relieved he felt, and how much Emma refused to be ignored, taking up space in his mind. “Thank you, Mary Margaret,” he returned, kindness in his tone and a half smile pulling at his lips. “Excuse me,” he said, then walked away as he noticed Philip waving for his attention from across the room. Mary Margaret was speechless, so much so that she didn’t even notice David, who was standing next to her, shared the same blank stare of amazement. Killian Jones thanked her, really thanked her, called her by her real name, and then politely excused himself! It was an uncommon thing, almost unheard of by either of them. Killian was never overly polite, nor apologetic, not to anyone. Not even David and Regina. It wasn’t that he lacked manners so much as he didn’t exert them, because he couldn’t bring himself to care.

David looked at Mary Margaret, he noticed the trembling of her hands, and the paleness of her face. From the movement in the room, it looked like Killian, Philip, and the lab boys were ready to turn the body. “Mary Margaret, you don’t need to be here for this,” he said kindly.

She looked at him and a stubborn look came over her face. She was a cop, too, dammit! Granted a lab specialist, but she still had much the same police training as they did.

David knew he’d made a mistake to insinuate she was unable to handle this much reality, and suddenly it looked like he was going to rise in rank on her list of insensitive men. “I’ve got a more important task I need you to do,” David rushed on, backpedaling as quickly as he could. He saw her eyes narrow and her back stiffen as she prepared herself to feel insulted. “I need you to go to this address, it’s Emma’s. We need someone to stay with her, to protect her until we can get there.” David saw Mary Margaret relax and become more attentive. “The professor told her yesterday that she should never be alone, and he was supposed to have lunch with her today to give her some information. Considering this, I think both Killian and I would be able to focus better knowing she’s not alone.”

Mary Margaret looked at David. It was difficult for her to look him in the face at times without feeling the heat flood her cheeks, but she did it anyway. He seemed sincere enough. “Okay, I’ll do it. Will you call when you’re on your way over?”

David nodded and then watched her leave the scene. He noticed Ruby watching Mary Margaret with narrowed eyes. It was easy to understand the jealousy Ruby felt towards Mary Margaret Blanchard who was obviously smarter and more accepted, despite her shy tendencies. But the jealousy took a new twist when not only did Killian seem to accept Mary Margaret on the scene, but he also assigned her the job of lead forensic investigator. David just shook his head and returned to his partner’s side. The forensic department had to be a real chuckle fest with all that competition.

“What've we got, Killian?” David asked his partner who was squatting down by the now moved body. Killian, wearing latex gloves, lifted the open shirt away from the body. There was a roughly etched design on the chest. Killian stood up and let the photographer record it.

Philip looked at Jones in admiration. _How did he know there would be more to the scene than a sliced neck?_ “I’ll let you know as soon as I can about the blood, Jones. Offhand, I think you’re correct. The amount of blood looks to be a pint low. No bloody footsteps, so no prints to record. The wounds in the chest appears to have been done with a knife. A sharp knife. More than likely the same knife that slashed the throat.”

Killian nodded. “The killer was cautious and knowledgeable about not leaving evidence.”

David frowned at Killian. “Why do you say that?”

Killian waved at Philip and motioned for David to follow. “The lacerations were made post-mortem, so that means they avoided dripping blood on purpose, and took the time to collect and take away a pint of blood.”

“How do you know? There was so much blood covering his chest. How do you know the cuts were done after the professor died?” David asked in wonder. He often wished he could have the instinct Killian did, but other times he preferred to remain as he was. Killian’s ability to relive a crime, or reconstruct it, was part of his problem, part of the reason he lived his life alone. Killian didn’t like being touched, being vulnerable.

“Most of the blood soaked through the shirt from where he rested in the blood on the table, but the crusted blood around the incision suggests that it didn’t bleed much. That means...”

“He was already dead when the killer cut into him,” David finished.

Killian just nodded yes. He pulled off his latex gloves and tossed them in the trash as he left the scene. Seeing Ruby still there he swore out loud and, looking at David, sighed and dug out a dollar. David didn’t bother to mention the few other dollars Killian owed him because after seeing the crime scene, cursing and profanity seemed justified.

“Lucas.”

Ruby turned and scowled at Killian. He was starting to really piss her off.

“I need you to take over the primary site for the rest of the day, keep the others working, and shut it up for the night. Professor Swan won’t be back until Saturday at the earliest, and Blanchard will be back in the morning.” Killian winced at the triumphant look in Ruby’s eyes. “This is just for the remainder of the day. If you don’t think you can handle this, let me know now and I'll find someone else.”

“No, I can do it, Killian,” she grinned. David noticed Killian’s jaw muscles tighten at the use of his name by her. “I’ll report anything we find to Mary Margaret in the morning.”

“Fine.” And without saying goodbye or anything else, Killian took off, confident that David would follow close behind.

“That was nice of you,” David said when he caught up. Killian looked at David with his head to one side and a questioning brow raised. “Letting her primary the museum investigation, even if it’s only for this evening.”

“There was nothing nice about it. You sent Blanchard to look after Emma, correct?”

David nodded.

“Then there was no one else on hand that could do it, except her. Let’s hope she doesn’t screw it up.” Killian snorted his disbelief that Ruby Lucas could do little but fuck up.

David laughed to himself as they got into the car. For a second he thought Emma Swan had changed his partner into a nice caring human in just forty-eight hours. But nope, Mr. Insensitivity was still alive and kicking in Storybrooke, USA.

~*~

When Mary Margaret finally located Emma’s home, she was shocked to find herself in the newly renovated and fashionable west side of the city. Five years ago, the old industrial downtown region underwent an urban renewal, fueled by the increase in population and revenue. Old factories and warehouses were renovated, creating a new shopping community full of restaurants, live music, and expensive shops with specialty groceries and an open square farmers' market. Along with this renewal came the renovation of old canneries by the docks, into large condo and apartment complexes for the upper-class yuppies and young contemporary rich. Mary Margaret hadn’t realized a university professor could make enough money to be able to afford someplace so plush.

Mary Margaret, feeling underdressed, conspicuous, and out of place, reluctantly knocked on the door. The man who answered it left her speechless and astounded. He was wearing only a pair of worn jeans, unfastened, and his face was covered with a scruff of a beard, while his dark hair was in disarray. “I’m sorry...um...I must have the wrong address.” Mary Margaret tried to retreat quickly from what looked to be a young, starving artist or something of that type.

“Whoa! Wait there, green eyes. Who you lookin' for exactly? If you already woke me up, it’s not like you should just scamper away before letting me help ya out.” August smiled at the flustered woman’s face, peering closer. She looked familiar to him somehow. “Do I know you?”

Mary Margaret quickly shook her head no, mortified that she woke him. “I was just looking for Professor Emma Swan’s home. I’m so sorry...”

“Well, don’t apologize, you found it. Come on in. I didn’t know Em was home.” August moved aside to let the young woman in, but not very far aside, so Mary Margaret was forced to slide past him, brushing up against his bare chest.

“Stop teasing her and put some clothes on!”

Both August and Mary Margaret looked up at the stairs and saw Emma standing there observing them.

Mary Margaret was surprised. She thought Emma and Jones were, well, sort of an item. But here was Emma, living with a man. Glancing up at Emma, Mary Margaret was silent and her thoughts numbed by the sight of Emma. The young professor didn’t look very good. There were no signs of crying, but her face was bleached of all color, her hands had a fine tremor, and she wore no expression, almost like a real emotion would break her face. Next to her, the man swore as he too noticed Emma and her lack of expression.

“Dammit, Em, what's going on?” August moved away from the door and ran up the stairs grabbing Emma by the shoulders and pulling her to him. Mary Margaret couldn’t understand what they were talking about, but she could tell that the man was alarmed as his back stiffened and he made some comforting remarks to Emma. Mary Margaret was stunned when Emma turned and went back into the darkened upstairs loft area, without talking to her, as the man slowly came down the stairs.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” August said as he rubbed his forehead and he looked at the girl. “If you’re one of Emma’s students, I’m afraid you’ll have to come back or call later. Professor Swan isn’t up to receiving visitors.”

“No, I’m not. That's why I came...or I mean, I was sent to....by the detectives to...” Mary Margaret stopped talking or trying to talk when the man held up his hand.

“Okay, just one thing at a time, slowly,” he paused for a second, “but not that slowly. Who are you?”

Mary Margaret blushed, but gathered her wits, trying to look at his face only and not his almost nude body. “I’m Mary Margaret Blanchard from Storybrooke P.D.”

August smiled. That was where he saw her, or sort of saw her. Blanchard from Forensics was a slippery customer, scurrying through the halls of the P.D., practically overlooked by most people working there. “Of course, I knew I knew you from somewhere,” August said as he held out his hand to shake hers. “I’m August Booth from Vice.”

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t know, or I mean, of course I’ve heard of you. Sorry, I didn’t realize that you lived here.” Mary Margaret swore under her breath making August smile even wider at her ramblings.

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes at her own stupidity. “Of course you live here. What I meant was I didn’t realize Emma was involved.” Mortified at what she said and how it might sound, implying that Emma didn’t act like someone’s girlfriend, especially considering her actions with Killian Jones, Mary Margaret stammered even more. She was so embarrassed that she missed August’s startled look.

“No-no! No! Chill, Blanchard, you’ve got to breathe! Emma isn’t my girlfriend; God rest my black soul. No sir, that little filly is my pain in the ass best friend-slash-sister. I’m only mooching a place to stay,” August explained quickly, leading the young woman to a place to sit. “Do you need some water or something, maybe a brown paper bag to breathe in?”

Mary Margaret became indignant at that. “I’m not having a panic attack, or hyperventilating. I’m not. It’s just that I didn’t know...that I was told to...” Mary Margaret looked at the twinkle in his eyes and swore under her breath again, which made August laugh out loud. Angry, Mary Margaret stood up, and pulled at her shirt, straightening it. “Well, I was told to come stay with Emma by Detective Nolan, but since you’re here, I’ll go and report.” Mary Margaret tried to walk off in a huff, but August quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her back down on the sofa.

“Not so fast, Mary Margaret Blanchard from Forensics. Why does my friend need a babysitter? A keeper, yes, that I can buy, but a babysitter?” August moved away from her to give her space, because as charming as she was, all flustered and stuttering, he needed to hear this information, and he suspected Mary Margaret Blanchard would respond better if he wasn’t cluttering her personal space.

“Let me just grab a shirt,” he added. He hurried to the room he’d commandeered to cover up. Maybe if Mary Margaret didn’t have to avoid looking at his manly chest, she could find a way to calm down enough to spit out all the grisly details.

Mary Margaret looked around the condo, admiring the space, amazed at the colors, because what she would’ve sworn shouldn’t go together, somehow worked. The place was light and airy, although the upper loft area was shrouded in darkness by shades that kept the sun out. Mary Margaret assumed the young professor had shut them in an attempt to keep the real world at bay for a moment.  She was seated on an overlarge, white couch placed strategically in front of a fireplace in a sunken living room, separated from the kitchen area by three steps, with what looked like a decked area and small garden behind a tri-folding glass door which faced out to the water. The kitchen was open and big, and included large stainless-steel appliances and a cafeteria style refrigerator with sliding glass doors.

When August returned, he was not only dressed, but he stopped by the kitchen and put a tea kettle on the stove. Mary Margaret silently watched him work as he quickly assembled some sandwiches and made hot tea, adding wedges of fresh lemon, cream and sugar. Picking up the tray, he maneuvered down the three steps and across the room to the glass doors and stood there looking back at her. “Are you going to get this door for me, Blanchard?”

Mary Margaret blushed again, but scurried over to open the door. August smiled and thanked her on his way through it, setting the tray down and pulling a chair out for her. Mary Margaret looked around the open garden with admiration. Inhaling the combined aroma of clematis climbing a trellis, sweet Honeysuckle, and the scent of the ocean maybe fifty paces away, had Mary Margaret feeling something close to envy.

“Before you think Emma is a gardening wiz, I’ve got to admit that most of this was done by her mom. Em? She kills the hardiest plant with just a stare. But Ingrid? It’s like they grow just to please her.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, it is that. Emma’s had some rough times in her life, and it seemed that making this place come to life, to create a world of green, and sunshine, was the only way Ingrid could find a reason for Emma to want survive; to make her want to go on. So, this secret garden was built and created for Emma. It’s her sanctuary, but God forbid she should ever try to tend it. The girl knows cars, but plants? Those she thinks are only for eating.”

Mary Margaret was intrigued by the brief glimpse into Emma’s life. There was so much she didn’t know, so much that remained a mystery, and for some reason she felt like she wanted the chance to know Emma better, to have her as a friend. “So what happened today, with Emma’s old professor friend, was it bad?”

August watched shadows move across Mary Margaret’s face as he passed her a cup of hot tea and some small sandwiches. Ingrid had taught him that to offer a person nourishment was the first step to disarm them enough to relax around you. Mary Margaret looked down at her hands and the plate and just nodded. Looking up into August’s eyes, she said, “It was very bad.”

August leaned back and looked up at the darkened windows of the second floor, worrying about the sleeping Emma, and what she had stepped in this time.

~*~

It took some time before Killian and David could head over to Emma’s place. After they closed the newest crime scene at the university, they returned to the precinct to report to Nemo and write their reports. Preliminary forensic information came back from both the Herman and Geppeti murders. Killian had been correct in his assessment there was some blood missing from Geppeti. According to the CSI’s findings, about a pint of blood was missing, and from the stains on the manuscript, it appeared that after the first onrush of blood, a container was set on the table to catch the blood. The etching in the skin was still an unknown, and forensics was searching the FBI databases for known occult symbols resembling the etching. Whatever it was, it seemed ancient, and it told a story.

They stopped at the hospital and found Liam was still sleeping. They stopped to talk to Emma’s assistant, Belle French, for a moment. She had stayed all day at Liam’s side, and didn’t appear to be moving anytime soon.

Belle had been sitting at Liam’s bedside reading a magazine, watching him sleep, when suddenly she felt like she was being watched. Turning, she was caught in the unwavering stare of two men, the same two men who had visited Emma two days before.

“How is he?” David asked kindly, resting his hand gently on her shoulder.

“He's woken up a few times, but he’s in a lot of pain so they keep sedating him. The drugs are making him loopy, I don’t think he even knows I'm here,” Belle informed them and then looked back at Liam. “He was my fiancé’s best friend all through high school, and mine.” She tried to control the need to cry again. “I never thought there'd be a time when we wouldn’t all be together. It’s so easy when you’re young, thinking you’ll live forever.” Belle looked at the two men, she was confused as to why she would tell them such things, personal things that she never talked to anyone about but Emma.

“Emma was coming by after work, but there was an incident at the university, one that forced us to have her go home,” Killian explained, not telling her any more about the murder of Professor Geppeti. The young woman already looked like she was struggling to handle Liam’s injury. “Tell Liam that Jones and Nolan came by to see him, and that we’ll be back, and we’ll bring Emma with us next time.”

Belle nodded at the two men as they slowly retreated, both occasionally glancing back at her. After they left, she couldn’t place why or even what made them different, but they were. Looking back at Liam, she noticed that he was awake again.

She smiled uncertainly at him. Never once in her life would she have imagined that Liam Nemo could make her feel unsure, as though she were a stranger to him. But after a year of silence, that was what they were. “Hi, handsome, are you in pain? Should I call the nurse?”

Liam just shook his head no as he continued to watch her. She looked sad and tired, but still the breathtakingly beautiful Belle he remembered. “I thought I’d died and gone to heaven when I saw you.”

“Liam...”

“No, it’s okay. I’m glad you’re here.” Liam looked down to where she held his hand tight in hers. “I’ve missed you.” Belle reached over him and gently hugged him to her, being careful of his shoulder and IV lines, crying her relief that he was still alive.

~*~

Noticing an ancient Jeep Grand Wagoneer parked outside Emma’s condo, Killian and David guessed it had to be Blanchard’s. Killian wasn’t looking forward to telling Emma about her friend, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it from her. She'd have already guessed it wasn’t good news, but the details weren’t something he wanted to share with her, and if he didn’t need her help, he’d have done everything in his power to make sure she never found out any details at all.

They were both surprised to hear gentle laughter on the other side of the door as it was opened to them. In front of them stood a bright-eyed, smiling Mary Margaret Blanchard, whose face completely shut down when she saw them. She moved aside to let them in and David closed his eyes and almost moaned when he realized he forgot to call first and let her know they were on their way.

“Hey, Mary Margaret, do you think I should toss both types of olives in or just the black ones?” August was asking as he came around the corner to see what was keeping Mary Margaret. They’d thought the door was the grocery delivery they ordered from the local market. Instead, it was the detecting team of Jones and Nolan. August noticed how thunderstruck Mary Margaret appeared, discreetly looking at David under her lashes, and he swore under his breath. Great, just great. Hooking an arm around her waist, August pulled her back against him to give the other two a chance to come in. Coming up behind Killian and David was the missing delivery boy with two bags of groceries. August reached for his wallet as David grabbed a bag and Mary Margaret took the other.

Killian walked past August and said, “Hope you bought bread.”

By the time August paid for the groceries, Mary Margaret was unpacking them along with David. Quickly taking his place back in the kitchen beside Mary Margaret, August booted David out to take a seat next to Killian at the bar. Watching Killian glancing up at the dark upstairs, August knew Killian was reluctant to wake Emma, to tell her about her dead friend. He had heard some of the details from Mary Margaret, enough to call in that night and stay close to home.

He tried to call Ingrid, but according to her friend, Caroline, Ingrid was out organizing a rally to protect wild, hungry bears from uncertain death. Ingrid hadn’t heard about Liam yet, but August was certain that once she did, Hurricane Ingrid would be back in town causing more havoc than help. Ingrid Arden had to be the greatest mother alive. Though, biologically, she was mother  
to no-one.

August didn’t like the way Mary Margaret shut down and became quiet again, but he kept her cooking with him while he asked Killian and David details about the murder. Finally, Mary Margaret seemed to realize that it was getting late, and with all the men in the house, she was probably no longer needed to stay with Emma.

“Gus, thanks for the company. I guess I could have left once I knew you were staying home tonight, but now I really should get home.” Mary Margaret turned to talk to Killian, to make sure it was okay for her to leave, since he was primary on the case and she had been ordered to watch over Emma, which amounted to nothing but talking to Gus while Emma slept. Killian just  
nodded at her, noticing how David’s eyes were following Mary Margaret, August, and their interactions.

The room was silent after Mary Margaret’s departure, and Killian continued to watch August cook. Cooking was a mystery to him, since his idea of cooking was opening a can of soup and heating it, or grilling some mackerel. It seemed everything he knew how to make was, at best, bland. “What are you making exactly?” he asked.

“Old Arden recipe. It is fresh Chilean Sea Bass cooked in olives, capers, and fresh tomatoes. I like to serve it with tortellini stuffed with ricotta and Romano cheese. I made the tortellini fresh earlier, with Mary Margaret’s help.” August discreetly looked up under his lashes at David, as he mentioned Mary Margaret’s name. The man’s reaction made August smile wryly to himself. Yeah, he thought so.

“Arden?” David asked, intrigued.

“Ingrid Arden, Emma’s mom. She pretty much raised the both of us,” August told him, before shutting the rest down. If Emma wanted these people to know her personal life, she would tell them.

“How is Emma?” Killian finally asked.

“She took some meds for her migraine and has been sleeping,” August told him, looking at Killian and sharing another moment of understanding. “Maybe you should go check up on her while David and I finish dinner.”

August knew by the constant movement of Killian’s eyes toward the darkened room that the man needed to go upstairs, to see for himself she was safe, but for some reason was resisting that need. Without making a comment or saying a word, Killian quickly climbed the stairs to the room he spent last night in. He needed to know she was okay, that she was still alive and breathing. He hated not knowing what was going on, and how Emma figured into it. But something inside told him not to let her out of his sight, not to leave her alone and unprotected.

“I’m not asleep you know,” she said as soon as he stepped off the top rung.  Killian sat down on the bed just as he had the night before. “He’s dead, then?” she probed.

Killian nodded his head, then realized that she couldn’t see the action in the dark. “Aye, love, he’s dead.” He didn’t like the hollow sound of her voice, the lack of emotion or even tears.

“Natural causes or murder?” Emma held her breath, but she knew. If Marco had died from natural causes he would’ve told her immediately, and he wouldn’t have ordered her home under the watchful eye of Mary Margaret.

“Not natural causes,” Killian confirmed. He hated the emotionless state he’d found her in. Emma Swan was anything but emotionless. This was wrong. “Why don’t you come downstairs and eat some food? August’s cooking something strange with olives, but it smells good.”

Emma slowly got up from the bed and came over to stand in front of him. Reaching down, she leaned into him and liked how he put his hands around her, hugging her close to his body, while she ran her fingers through his hair and kissed the top of his head. “You go. I’ll be down in a few minutes. I want to shower real quick.”

Killian wanted to suggest he come with her, but somehow it seemed like she needed to be alone, to wrap her mind around the knowledge that her friend had been murdered. Besides, if he joined her in the shower there was no way it would be in any way quick.

So he left her alone and walked down the stairs. David and August were eating and discussing the complexities of the case, all the unknowns and the dead ends. When August saw him coming, he quickly served up another plate for Killian, not even bothering to ask him if he liked fish. It wasn’t bad, Killian thought, not bad at all.

“How is she?” David asked.

Killian just shook his head and ate another mouthful. “Not good. I don’t get it. She would feel better if she cried, and in truth, I expected that she would cry, but instead she went to take a shower, so maybe she’s crying in there.” The thought of Emma crying alone in the shower bothered Killian, but it bothered him more that she wasn’t crying.

August said softly, not looking at either Killian or David, “Emma doesn’t cry, not ever. The only time I've seen her cry is when she’s totally disarmed and out of control, or pissed beyond reason. Otherwise, she doesn’t cry, not even a little.”

Killian frowned at the information and wanted to ask August more questions, to unearth the seriousness in his eyes, the knowledge he held, but refused to divulge. But it was more than a little obvious that August wasn’t saying more than that.

The three men looked up when she came down the stairs, none of them saying a word or uttering a sound. Emma was dressed in a short, tight, leather mini skirt with an equally tight shirt. Swinging a red leather jacket over her shoulder, she looked at them as she headed straight for the garage door. “I’m going for a drive.”

She didn’t wait for their reactions. The three men stood and tried to formulate, or even justify, a way to demand she remain indoors with them, safe from sadistic assholes, the problem being that Emma was an adult and the decision was hers to make. Pausing at the door, she looked back and said to Killian, “Well? Are you coming?”

Killian looked at the other two men, then quickly grabbed his jacket and followed her. She already had the garage door open, and the GTO gunning loudly, sounding almost as impatient as its mistress to have free run of the road. Killian realized, technically he should give her a speeding ticket for what she was about to do, but he knew, just knew that if he could get behind her wheels, he would let her run wild, too.    

Killian watched her in the darkness with only the light of the dash playing on her face. She was beautiful, absolutely stunning! Just when he thought there was no way in hell he could find her more attractive and intriguing, she did something so unexpected and there it was again. The movement of her hands on the steering wheel told him that this run was her way of getting back some control, that she was finding it burdensome to keep from losing herself in her grief. So, he sat back, watched her and the machine eat away the miles at blinding speeds, admiring the control she exerted over the tons of metal and horsepower. The smell of the car was rich in leather, with the soft roll back top of the convertible looking new and in good condition. She could have put the top down, but for now they were running fast into the quiet of the night.

Suddenly she stopped, dead center of the road, and sat breathing raggedly, looking ahead at the disappearing yellow line running fast down the middle of the road. That damned yellow line! No matter how fast you raced towards it, it kept winning, being just ahead of you as far as sight would permit you to see. It was like life - an endless run into a darkened night where nothing was certain but uncertainty.

Emma swiftly turned the car around in a U-turn, and headed back to Storybrooke, to murder, and the reality of living the rest of her life without her lost friends. As Killian saw the familiar Toll Bridge sign, Emma took a turn down a dirt road leading into woods, and after a few moments she came to a stop on a hill overlooking the town. Turning off the engine they sat in silence, watching life race on undisturbed by the events of the last few days.

“It doesn’t really matter, does it?” she asked softly.

Killian had spent so long in the silence, watching the lights of the town twinkle, that her words startled him.

“What? What doesn’t matter?” Killian watched her, seeing her shadow in the darkness with her hands firmly gripping the steering wheel.

“This. All of this. It doesn’t matter. You could race towards the end of the world without stopping, but sooner or later you would be right back where you started, no better off for the effort.” Emma turned to look at him. He watched her silently as she stared at him. “I’ve run this race a thousand times, and it doesn’t change, or matter whether you run and hide, or stand still and fight. It finds you. I used to think that if I could stay ahead of the sun, that I would be okay, that it wouldn’t find me. But I was wrong. It finds you and finds you, and makes you pay.”

“What are you running from Emma? Who?”

Emma laughed a soft, bitter laugh. “The same person you run from Killian. Myself.” Moving across the benched seat, she leaned towards him and hooked a finger in the open lapel of his shirt.

“Aren’t we a pair? You, the cock of the walk, and me, the peahen. We talk a good game, walk the walk, but deep inside we’re looking for that same taste of redemption, that one lost soul that will bring us peace. Maybe if we can save the next one or lay them to rest, then maybe, just maybe, we can find ourselves.” Emma leaned forward and rested her forehead on his chest, whispering soulfully, “Maybe we can find enough grace for God to finally care enough to stop letting bad things happen to us. It’s like being born cursed and not knowing, never knowing why.”

What she said was true, and he found it easy to hate her for that.

Emma with her Mary Margarets and Belles, finding them something inside that they had lost or just never had. Even him. She had found him a moment of peace when he was standing at the edge, uncertain he could pull it back together and go on. It was like Emma needed to heal things in others, just to learn how to heal herself. What wounded her was part of another mystery, because she was the farthest thing from a victim Killian knew. He didn’t feel the need to save her, to find all that was wrong and fix it, because somehow, he knew that she needed the strength that came from saving herself. The protectiveness he felt towards her was different, because Emma Swan didn’t know how to live life as a victim? Or perhaps she just stubbornly refused to?

Killian’s responsibilities were different and, in a crushing way, the same. He helped the victims, the defenseless, and abused. They were all that mattered, all he could see. If he could save one of them and find some justice, perhaps he could learn to save himself, to mend. It was such a long road, this one they walked, needing to find a way to go on, and yet too damn stubborn to give up. What he found so refreshing about her was she seemed, like him, unsure at times. But suddenly like the wind, she changed. It was like she shook it off and refused to live in the shadows because the light was all she wanted, and whether she deserved it or not, she was damn well going to live there. Whereas Killian only saw shadows, and the light was merely an aspiration, his greatest desire.

“Emma...”

She put her finger to his mouth to stop him from talking, to keep him from trying to make it better. “Shush, it’s okay. I know. I just know. Even if you traveled ahead of the chaos, ahead of the path, sooner or later you come back to the beginning, and by running you did nothing, nothing but spend time, worthless time, wasted. I’m tired of running, but I have to believe that it’s not the end that is important. I’ve got to believe that the journey is where the real importance lies, and it’s not the winning that matters as much as how you fought.”

She moved into his lap and turned to face him, to straddle him, reaching her hands up to frame his face and run her fingers into his hair, pulling gently on his ears as she passed them. She moved forward and her lips came to rest against his, and he could feel the small flicker of her tongue as she tasted his lip and then pulled back. “Journey with me, Detective...”

Killian’s heart sped out of control as she continued.

“For just a short while. I’m not asking for forever. Help me forget that I’m watching a man be buried tomorrow who never deserved to die, and in a few more days, I’ll do the same for a sweet old man who survived the hell of a concentration camp and Hitler to die in his office, slaughtered.” Emma didn’t know the details, but as she lay in her bed fighting off a headache, she could hear Mary Margaret and August talking in low voices. And though the details were never told to her, the horrified whispers of Mary Margaret Blanchard spoke louder than anything else could have.

Emma needed to feel him, to feel the echoing pants of his breath struggling from his lungs, to feel the rush of his blood beneath his skin and her teeth. She didn’t want to hurt him, at least not much. The need to feel again was wrapped up in him, in his taste and smell, the searing slow burn of pain left by his not so gentle hands, as they shaped her to him and the bite of his teeth as he slowly nipped his way down her body, touching her with the fire of living, walking on the edge of ecstasy and pain.

Killian watched as she reached over and turned on the ignition and pushed a button after first releasing the latches in the front by the window shield. The soft rolled top moved back, opening the convertible to the open skies, and with hundreds of thousands of stars twinkling down on them and the lights of Storybrooke below, she turned off the car and rested over him.

Pushing herself up on her knees where she sat over his hips, his mouth was level to her stomach, and he rested back against the seat watching her as she ran her hands up her torso to unbutton the buttons of her shirt and slowly peel it away. Moving forward he licked her skin at her belly button and then moved upward with his hands holding her waist. Emma leaned against him to drop her discarded shirt onto the back seat, and then framing his face, she pulled his mouth away from her skin and reached down to take his mouth in a long, sucking kiss that had her tongue moving roughly in and out of his mouth, fucking him.

Killian moved under her, trying to find some relief from the pressure in his jeans. As she continued to intensify the kiss, leaving him breathless and disoriented, he wrapped his hands around her legs, pushing the leather skirt up to gather at her waist. He groaned loudly and swore against her skin when he realized she was wearing no underwear. His finger went straight to her core, moving inside to feel her tight silky walls grasp him, not in the least bit surprised to find her already wet and ready for him.

She moaned heavily in his mouth and pushed herself demandingly against his fingers and hand, wanting more. Emma took fucking seriously, not really thinking about her partner as much as just living in the moment, in the feeling and taking him along for the ride. He could appreciate that type of selfish self-interest because it was how he lived his life, how he normally viewed sex. Killian was more than happy to let her use him anyway she pleased because from where he was sitting, under her body, the benefits were more than a little compensatory.

Killian slid his hands up into her body, stroking her soft inside, enjoying the movement of firm muscles, feeling the ripples and twitches his touch generated. Emma's hands got busy moving down the front of his shirt, opening the buttons and removing it from his body, and then sliding downward to work on the buttons of his jeans, rubbing his straining cock that was outlined against the worn fabric. Killian groaned against Emma's mouth as those incredible fingers delved in and freed his cock, warm skin on his heated flesh, cool air rushing against him. Her thumb smoothed over his tip, probing at the tiny fissure, spreading the moisture that had already leaked out.

Killian couldn’t open his eyes, didn’t want to. There was a light show inside him, moving light flashing behind his eyes. He was definitely dick-oriented lately, with all his thoughts and energies originating there and concentrating on where he could put it, namely anywhere in Emma. David would’ve chided him over thinking with his littlest head, but in truth, what options did he have since that was where all the blood in his body seemed to reside?

"Aye, touch me like that, love ...just like that..." Her mouth came back to his arduously, pulling his tongue inside her mouth to gently bite it.

"Like me touching you?" Emma murmured as she released his mouth to rest against his chest, nuzzling into his hardened nipples.

"Aye."

Her fingers stroked, caressed, cajoled, drawing breathy gasps and moans from Killian. He felt Emma smile against his chest. "Keep touching...don't stop, don't stop...oh, bloody hell, I need your mouth on me!"

"Where do you want my mouth?" Emma whispered huskily, slowly licking his nipple, rolling it between her teeth and tongue, and then gently biting it as his chest moved forward and he pushed himself harder against her mouth. One of his hands came to entangle in her hair, holding her mouth tight against him. It wasn’t until he felt her moving downward, her mouth leaving sucking marks on his skin, that enough sense came back to stop her, to pull her upright again.

"No..." Killian pulled Emma back and shoved his face into her stomach, tonguing her belly button. "I want to taste you...drink you. Then I want to fuck you until you can't see straight."

"Oh," came a faint voice above him. He could feel her excited breath moving through her lungs as her hands came to rest on his shoulders and her fingers played with the hair resting at his nape. “Then you should get busy.”

Killian moved her backwards and lifted her, holding her weight with his head resting against her stomach. Emma moaned when she felt the leather interior of the dash against her ass and the edge of the windshield against the back of her neck. Leaning forward she let her body rest against his while he moved forward in the seat, placing her feet on either side of him, pushing her knees farther apart. Oh, god, she was wearing high heels! That almost lost it for Killian right there, and gulping deep breaths of air harshly into his lungs, he regained some control.

The leather skirt was bunched around Emma's waist, and Killian leaned in to take his first taste of her, licking gently across her swollen bunch of nerve endings and breathing in the smell of her body, the sweat and leather. He reveled in Emma's gasp as her fingers grasped his shoulders bruisingly. She tasted of heat. Heat, salt, sweat, and a slightly sweet flavor; a delicious combination that exploded in his mouth. He swallowed her again, rubbing his tongue deep inside, tasting the soft, silky walls while her breath rushed out of her in a deep groan. He pulled back, enough to give himself a little maneuvering room, pushing his finger back into her, feeling her internal muscles grip him tightly. He sucked her clit into his mouth, running his tongue across the top of it. His other hand holding her firm as her hip bucked into him, pushing herself deeper onto him, wanting more than his mouth and fingers.

"God, Killian..." Hands clutched at his head, fingers scrambling for purchase. “I hate you.”

Killian smiled against her. Good. He’d rather have her heated emotions than her soft ones. He couldn’t afford to have her crumbling before him. He needed her tough, hot, and wild. He hated her, too. He hated everything about her that made him want to love her forever and endlessly, because those were emotions he couldn’t understand, couldn’t even imagine controlling or dealing with. Hate he could do. Love left him scared.

He ignored everything but his driving need for this and plunged a little further down on her hot, engorged mound, lapping at the heat, feeling the energy of her empty into his mouth, giving her life to him. The reaction was electric. Emma groaned low in her throat and shoved upward against him, forcing the rest of herself into Killian's mouth. He grunted and swallowed, taking it all in. He drank Emma voraciously, like a starving man, needing to taste her, to own her.

He could feel the striations in her flesh under his tongue, the silken movement of skin; felt and heard the thundering pulse racing through her veins, carrying heat across his tongue. Her hips rolled beneath his lips and his mouth as he slid his other hand to her hips, moving them frantically up and down, working her unyieldingly against his mouth. Emma moaned above him, hands pulling at his hair. When she thought he’d sucked her so dry she couldn’t give anymore, he made her come again. _Bastard_. Killian reached a point where living in her was all he cared about, all he wanted, and realizing he had stepped into a trap, a place that scared him, he finally let her go and moved backward from it, a low cry from her hanging in the air as she came again.

"Killian?" Emma's voice sounded shaky, breathless as he left her hanging there alone.

"Hang on, love," Killian said thickly, as he reached down to push his jeans past his hips, to spread his legs, and then he reached for Emma, shifting her forward, back into his lap to straddle him again. He buried his face in the spot between her neck and shoulder, inhaling her scent before placing a kiss along her neck, sucking her skin between his teeth to bite sharply, just short of breaking the skin. He could feel the heat of her blood rushing under his tongue, and the heat of her skin as he left his mark on her.

A line of kisses was drawn from under her ear to the hollow of her throat where he could hear a moan vibrate as it was released from her mouth, then down to her beautiful breasts. Killian shifted her again, sliding his hands around Emma's hips, cradling her ass in his hands. He spread her apart and positioned her just barely above his straining cock, gently rocking her back and forth, teasing her with just the head barely in her, rubbing her as he rocked her body, controlling her.

"Please, Killian...don’t be a bastard, don't tease..." He laughed gently against her skin, loving her cursing at him, demanding he pick up the pace, to end the torment. Her hands were clutching at his head again, her fingers tracing his ears. He drew back slightly, listening to be sure they were still relatively alone, then returned to his task. He swirled his tongue around her nipple, drawing it hotly into his mouth, pressing the tip of his penis into her a little more, but still stopping, controlling her hips with his hands. Emma moaned incoherently, arching against his body.

Killian whispered to her, “I am a bastard. Best you know that from the off. And it’s not teasing if you have every intention of following through.” With that said, he pushed her down on him, bucking up vigorously, making her take all of him in one swift thrust. Spreading her legs even further apart, he pushed her further down onto his length. She hissed in pain at being stretched too much, but then groaned her relief. Killian realized that her thighs had to be sore from earlier in the morning, he was far from being a small man, but he laughed aloud when she didn’t even hesitate taking him on.

He could feel the muscles of her abdomen straining as she rode him, gripping his shoulders and then the back of the seat behind him. Leaning back and enjoying the ride, he watched emotion after emotion race across her face. Good. He _hated_ the emotionless expression she wore earlier this evening, this one he could handle. Emma Swan was her best all pink from exertion, her mouth red from his kisses, with teeth marks on her lip from where she bit herself trying to keep from screaming. Killian closed his eyes and moaned as she moved over him, sucking the life out of him with the best ride he’d ever had.

Emma's body suddenly arched into him, straining as the tension burned and she spasmed on him. Her cry was cut off abruptly as she leaned over and bit down roughly on his shoulder, making Killian’s overheated body jump up yet another degree. He had planned to fuck her through her orgasm, to abuse her oversexed body for a long time, but her bite sent him over the edge as thick, hot liquid shot from him, and he filled her again and again, grunting her name, refusing to stop until he had his fill.

Emma convulsed on his cock, her body stiffening and contracting as Killian rode their mutual orgasm to the end. He thrust energetically into her willing body, then held tight as Emma's body tightened around him, her muscles clenching, milking his orgasm. He shuddered for long moments, shaking from the intensity as her muscles contracted around him, over and over. They were both spent, and they sat there unmoving, Killian still buried deep within Emma, both panting and shaking from the heightened sensations, and the emotions they would both deny. Sex. It was just sex. It had to be, because anything more scared them both.

As she lay wasted against him, her shirt completely gone, and her skirt pulled up around her hips, she rested, trying to catch her breath. She had walked out of her house tonight with the need to drive fast and far, to find life in the power under her, and to ride him just as fast and hard.

Killian should’ve felt something about how easily she could push and manipulate him, but for the life of him he couldn’t summon up an ounce of care to give. He wanted and needed it, just as much as she did, and in a time or place where it might have been important to wonder about those softer, conflicting emotions that clouded men and women’s lives, this was a healing force in itself, because all this was about was pure, unadulterated, life-giving fucking. This was something he could easily promise to do for her over and over again, endlessly.

“Enough?” he asked hoarsely in her hair, holding her tight to his body feeling his pounding heart echo off the wall of his chest and into hers.

She pulled back and looked at him with an impenetrable glint in her eye, and a smile that was in no way nice, “Not even close.”

Killian let it go, let the demon that rushed through his blood have purchase, to chase away anything nice inside. With a smile, he hauled her against him with bruising hands, and flipped her to lie on the long bench seat of the car, liking the sight of her beautiful blonde hair spread out before him, her body opened for his touch. Moving his hand, he found the lever under the seat and moved the front seat back a few notches. He wanted more room to maneuver, this was going to take some time, a long time, and it wasn’t going to be pretty or drenched in platitudes. He wanted her screaming under him, begging with her nails embedded in his skin. When he finished, if he ever finished, he wanted to leave her bruised and sore, with shaking thighs and the feel of him burned inside her. It wasn’t enough to see his marks on her body, on her skin, he needed to brand her inside as well, to mark her as his so deep that it could never be removed.

Reaching down, he unzipped her leather skirt and removed it, tossing it over the seat, and then kicking off his shoes, he removed his jeans the rest of the way. The cool night air moved over the skin of his back, but he still felt warm, real warm. Moving to rest his forehead against her bare stomach just above her navel, he breathed in the smell of them both on her body. Opening his mouth, he laved open mouth kisses up her body while moving one of her legs up over the seat, and the other high on his hip, tight. Leaning over her with one of his hands bracing himself above her head by holding onto the door where the window was rolled down, he asked her, “How do you want me?”

She reached up to run her hands under his arms and then up over the back of his shoulder to pull him down on her, letting his body weight crush her into the leather seat. “Hard, nasty, and cruel. I need you real dirty.”

Killian growled deep in his throat, entering her in one violent stroke. Her screams echoed in the dark night as she demanded more and more of him, not asking for mercy or gentleness even once, craving nothing but fierce passion. When he thought he had given her all he had, she pulled him back to her and summoned even more. God help him, she was a woman he could love.

~*~

  
  



	5. Unbreakable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies. Hope you are all having a good day today. 
> 
> I would like to thank all those who take the time to give kudos and leave a comment. You guys are awesome and I love reading what you think. 
> 
> As always a huge thanks to ilovemesomekillianjones and her awesome beta-ing skills. I love how she catches my 'nemesis' words and chews me out about them. And how she makes the time in her extremely busy schedule to continuing being my beta. 
> 
> There is artwork to accompany this chapter so check it out on tumblr - @jenswans
> 
> There is a chapter warning for this one: Child torment. Grieving. Traumatic and violent scenes are ahead, so be careful. I would hate for this chapter to be a trigger for some bad memories for someone.

**Chapter 5 Unbreakable**

August turned over in the bed and buried his head in the pillow. He hadn’t realized he had been waiting, listening for Emma and Killian to come home. But the sound of two sets of feet climbing the stairs to the loft area finally let him rest. Tomorrow he needed to get up early and go talk to Dak Nemo. It seemed that Vice was going to have to do without him for a while, because until this was over, he was requesting a temporary transfer to Major Crimes.

~*~

Across town, a pair of gloved hands searched in dim light through a stack of invoices and delivery receipts. The invoice was there, already numbered and accounted for, but the delivery receipt was missing. The hands searched the stack yet again to find it was still missing. Wherever the missing item was, it wasn’t here, but here is where it should have been. It must have been taken by someone else. Quietly leaving the building, the dark figure kept to the shadows to open the locks on another building. Moving down the ramp into an older part of the building, the appropriate door was found and quickly opened. It took a long time to locate the receipt, follow the description and make sure it was the correct item. It was getting too late in the game to make more mistakes. At the bottom of the receipt was the signature of the person who received it. Belle French.

~*~

Killian turned on the shower and adjusted the shower head to accommodate his taller frame. Moving into the hot water, he reached out and pulled Emma inside with him, leaning back to let them both rest against each other and against the wall, while the hot spray of water washed away the fatigue, sweat, and sex. Running his hands over her beautiful hide, he held her close and let the warm water bring some warmth back inside. It wasn’t the cold night air that chilled him as much as the lights of Storybrooke, and the feeling that some great unknown was going to steal her from him. Maybe she was right, maybe they’d been born cursed.

They both moaned as they settled into the mattress, letting the tiredness seep from their bones into the bed. Killian noticed the nice clean feel of soft sheets against his skin, along with the long silky feel of her on his body as their legs intertwined together, and his hand rubbed up and down her back. Emma’s finger was gently brushing his erect nipple, circling it, and then she leaned over to kiss him. He couldn’t believe his body was responding to her ministrations, but it was. It didn’t matter, he had nothing left to give. When she’d told him that she would take him on a ride he’d never forget, she wasn’t lying.

But as much as she seemed to need to keep touching him, he strangely felt the same way. His fingers gently traced the lines of her hip, stroked down the long lean lines of her powerful thighs, and then back up again to sink themselves into her. She was still hot and wet. Slowly stroking her, gently masturbating a soft moan from her throat where her head rested on his chest, he slowly tried to ease her into sleep. He was becoming erect again, but he was getting used to being in that condition, and he felt no urgency to relieve himself of it. The slight ache was comforting in a way. He had come so hard and long in her today, not once but many times, starting in the early morning light, and too many times to count in the front seat of her GTO under the darkened, starry sky. Moving his fingers from her body, he sucked them into his mouth, still tasting a combination of the two of them. The sweet taste of her and a slightly bitter one from him. As he sucked the taste deep into his mouth he reached over to kiss her firmly on the lips, sharing the experience. All he wanted was to drop between her legs and suck her dry, swallow all of her until she begged him to surge into her and fill her up again. Killian paused in kissing her as his thoughts registered, as the implication came from the fuzzy background of his brain and moved to the frontal lobe. The sheets. The sheets that confused him this morning, made him frown.

“The sheets.”

Emma looked at him confused at his choked voice.

“They were dirty.”

“Yeah, I know. I changed them when I got home,” she said simply as she tried to pull him back to her, but he held back.

“Emma, they were dirty, really dirty.”

Emma just stared at him trying to understand what was making him hold back, what was so damn important about a set of dirty sheets.

“They had a mixture of spills from both you and me.”

“I was there. I know,” she replied, irritated now and not liking the dark tone of his voice, not after what they’d done earlier. “What’s your point? We had sex. We came. The results are wet spots. Sheets get dirty. It’s not a difficult process to understand. I’m more concerned about how to clean the leather seat in the GTO.”

“I didn’t wear a condom. There should’ve been no spillage from me, and I sure as hell didn’t use one in the GTO.”

Emma finally understood his concern. Some detective he was, just now cluing into how in heat they were, how reckless.

Killian moved his head to rest against her as he pulled her back down to rest on him. This had never happened to him before, not even when he was a teenager with raging hormones. He never lost himself in a woman so much that he forgot to use protection. All the lectures he gave Regina about the dangers of unprotected sex came rushing back at him. It wasn’t just one lapse, but numerous lapses, over and over again and all within a twenty-four hour period. And god help him, the thought of him fucking her raw, natural, and without latex was making his dick twitch! Somehow thinking of anything, even a simple condom coming between them, making a barrier between feeling her, really feeling her, offended him. He was one sick pup.

“Tell me you’re on the pill?” Killian asked against her skin, wanting to know they were going to be okay.

“I can’t. I’m not.” Emma moved her hand over his back in comfort knowing how he must be feeling, especially after her own mini meltdown earlier that morning. “I will be in about two days.” Killian looked up at her in confusion.

“I sort of remembered the lack of latex situation earlier this morning and called to get a prescription. Then I stopped on my way home from the hospital and stocked up on supplies.” Emma felt some of the tension leaving his body. “Lucky for you, Detective, you jumped me while I’m in my safe zone. In about two days I'll be avoiding you like the plague.”

Killian breathed a sigh of relief, not too concerned about the other needs for condoms besides pregnancy. He knew he was clean, and from his knowledge of Emma, he didn’t doubt that she was too. “You don’t have to avoid me, you know. There are other things we could do.”

“I know.” He smiled at her soft voice with a lifting quality to it.

Killian gave a quiet laugh. “I was hoping for something that involved swallowing.” Emma’s soft uh huh and clicking purr in her throat made him laugh out loud. She joined him and they laughed, trying to overcome the unexpected humor of the situation, but in truth most of it was in relief. It was blind dumb luck that caught them during an infertility period. It could have been different, and they would’ve both been to blame.

Killian settled down, letting himself relax, when his curiosity became too great to resist. “What exactly are these supplies you’ve mentioned?”

Emma reached over to the bedside table and pulled out a large bag from the bottom shelf. Killian’s eyebrow went up at the size of the bag as Emma moved away from him and dumped it on the bed in between them. He sat up a little to look through the impressive stash of supplies. The lubricating gel made him smile, birth control pills were appreciated, the large tube of contraceptive jelly was confusing, the massage oil was not, but Killian couldn’t stop the look of amusement from spreading over his face as he picked up the box of condoms. He looked at her, his eyebrow going up. “Planning for an invasion?”

Emma reached over and pushed his shoulder, making him fall back on the bed. Emma laughed while plucking the box from his hand to stuff it back in the bag with the rest of her arsenal and dropped it over the side of the bed. “Hey, laugh it up! So maybe I panicked a little, but these are economy size, extra protective, extra-large, and dripping in extra spermicidal agents. I’m risking my body here with potential mutagens just because...well...” Emma actually stopped and Killian whooped out loud. Emma Swan was lost for words and blushing. His Emma was blushing! His laughter increased at the flood of swear words leaving her mouth, belying the fact that she looked like an angel. “Shut up! I can’t help it if I think you look far too virile. I have no doubts that your little boys can easily swim across a sea of infertility as wide as the Gulf of Mexico and knock up one of my eggs with just a wink!”

Killian couldn’t stop laughing, he had to hold his side from the pain. Another first for him! No woman he had ever been involved with had the ability to just make him laugh. She was fast knocking away every idea he had involving relationships and redefining those ideas. “A woman has the right to protect herself,” he said, trying to be serious for a second despite the twinkle of mirth in his eyes.

Emma nodded her agreement, glad that he was so perceptive. Leaning back into him, liking this smiling version of him almost as much as the others, she kissed him gently, closing her eyes and rubbing her head into his body almost like a cat. Killian didn’t notice he’d returned the gesture, enjoying the feel of her washing over his body. “No offense, Detective, but I have no desire to find myself carrying your child. Not that I don’t think you would make perfectly beautiful babies, but not with me, not right now. I think children should be planned for, wanted, and cherished by parents who waited for them and plan to never leave them. I don’t want to have a child until I’m settled in a relationship or marriage that comes with a lifelong commitment. My children deserve that much consideration.”

Killian had to agree with her. Knowing her for only a short period of time wasn’t exactly enough to find himself tied to her for life. He also had no doubt that Emma Swan, pregnant with his child, would reduce him to a walking babbling fruitcake with mush for brains, spewing so many terms of sickly sweet endearments that even David wouldn’t recognize him. Not going to happen. Not now, not any time soon. He couldn’t see it in himself or in her, not at this point in their lives. There was no way he would ever allow some nameless forgotten woman to raise his child alone across the city or in another state from him. That was why he had always kept a real close eye on where his boys were sleeping. So once again, Emma Swan was proving to be an exception, because not only did he know her name, shout it a few times, and chant it like a mantra, but he also deposited a few million sperm in her and left them unsupervised.

When he thought of a child, his child, not that he thought about it much, he knew nothing would ever take his child from him. Nothing. The sense of possessiveness he felt towards his potential offspring frightened him. It was dark and ugly, raging, with potential beastlike intensity. He would kill a person touching or threatening his children, and that insight was only more horrifying by the knowledge that this sense of possessiveness extended two-fold to the mother of his children.

Killian looked down at the blonde head resting against him and knew he was in serious danger of falling down that rabbit hole with her. She had already awakened so many primitive latent feelings in him, the least not being possessiveness. He could handle this overwhelming unmitigated lust as it raged through his body, leaving him feeling like he was in heat, but love? He couldn’t even mutter that word, not to her, not now, and especially not to himself. Killian closed his eyes trying to quiet his mind. He wasn’t ready for these thoughts, didn’t want them or welcome them. It was better to just repress them back deep inside until a time that he could better cope.

Killian held her in the night waiting for rest to claim him, hoping that chasing away the demons together, earlier in the evening, had tired her sufficiently. He wanted her to find some peace before the morning came and she walked out the door to bury the dead. An hour later, still moving his hands gently over her flesh, stroking her in comfort, he knew she wasn’t asleep; without speaking or moving, he just knew.  The situation was consuming her, Killian understood guilt that stole sleep with its refusal to abate. It was the same guilt he carried in every tough case. She was worried that there were things she should’ve seen, and things she should know, dangers untold. Emma’s belief that she had missed the signs were causing her guilt about those that had died, and fear that more would.  This was the first time he had a bedmate to share the endless night and the dark worries of not being strong enough or smart enough to find the solution before more died. His last thoughts were that they were walking in death’s shadow. Forever touched, caught in its icy grip.

~*~

Killian woke early in the morning, long before Emma. He quickly showered and dressed, then headed downstairs to make coffee and call David. They needed to get an early start considering they had a funeral to attend, and leads to investigate. It was only Friday, and he had met Emma Swan on Tuesday. Why did it already feel like a lifetime? Going up the stairs one last time, he looked down at her sleeping form, her hand resting on the warm spot he’d vacated mere minutes before, almost like she was searching for him in her sleep. The sight of her long, thin, beautiful hands made him exhale slowly as if he could feel the ghost of their gentle touch on his skin.

Killian frowned at the thin white line spanning her side, and noticed a few more over her back. He’d not noticed them before. Sitting next to her on the bed, he traced one of them with his finger. The red mark of whisker burn on her back, and the redness of her mouth, made him smile as he leaned down to brush the hair from her face, and kiss her gently on the mouth. Taking a card with his cell number on it, he put it under her hand, just in case she had misplaced the other one he gave her.

Walking down the stairs and putting on his shoulder holster, he noticed August was up, no doubt following the smell of coffee. Both men stared each other down, still uncomfortable with the situation, but neither ready to yield nor talk about it. No, he realized that neither Killian, nor Emma wanted his input in their relationship, and it was a given that Emma wouldn’t take any advice in the spirit it was meant.

Emma and Killian had woken August up just before the early morning light. He couldn’t miss the sounds coming from upstairs in the quiet loft, the laughter and the groans. August had turned over and covered his head with a pillow, realizing he was going to need to find a new place to sack out, and soon. Either that or go up the stairs one night and shoot Killian Jones dead between his eyes.

 _Damn,_ August rubbed his head, remembering the huge erection he woke with. He really needed to go out and find some other type of relief other than himself and the shower. For a second, his thoughts turned to Mary Margaret Blanchard, but no, what he was needing was a much wilder ride, free of complications. It was for the best because he suspected Jones had no intention of leaving the condo until after the case was over, and maybe not even then. But then again, neither did August. He wasn’t leaving Emma’s side until he knew she was out of danger.

“David’s on his way. Are you going to be around to cover Emma while she goes to the funeral today, or do I need to get her some protection?” Killian asked as he poured them both a cup of coffee.

“I’m around, so I’ll shadow her,” August said taking a drink of his coffee, his eyes narrowing, “and tell her all the reasons you’re a bad lay.”

Killian smirked at that, a little too smugly for August’s taste. Without thought, August reached for his gun, until he realized he was standing there only in his briefs. _Dammit,_ one day he was going to shoot Killian Jones dead. The knock came, interrupting their pissing stares, August sighed turning away to answer the door and let David in. Someday, things between him and Killian Jones would come to a head.

~*~

It wasn’t until later in the morning that Killian and David finally had a break to go to the funeral to stand in solidarity with their new acquaintances, in respect for someone taken from this world too soon. Scanning the crowd of people, he finally found Emma standing in a crowd of university staff and students, respectfully coming to lay Sean Herman to rest. She looked stark and pale, all in black, but her eyes remained dry, distant, almost like she was willing herself away, to another place where this never happened.

The museum crowd was there as well, and within their ranks stood both Mary Margaret and Ruby. He should have known they would come to show their support for their new acquaintances. Emma and her friend, Tink he thought she was called, stupid name if you asked him, stood close together with Tink occasionally wiping away tears that Emma couldn’t cry. He wondered why. And the man with the answers to Emma’s past stood a few feet away up on the hill, scanning the crowd, looking carefully at them all. August Booth, who at times scared even him, not for any other reason than the look in his eyes looked too familiar, too much like the one he saw in the mirror every morning.

Killian and David went over to join August as the funeral was breaking up and the guests were talking to Herman’s family and fiancée. They needed August to stay at Emma’s side. She was going to the reception afterwards with the rest of the guests, but the detectives also needed her help.

“Booth,” Killian greeted dark and deadly. David looked at the two men as August answered back in a tone laced in acid. “Jones?”

Killian smirked at the tone. “I need you to bring Emma to the station after the reception. We need her input about the professor. Can you do that, or do I need to send a squad car.”

“Done.” August barely spared them a glance as he walked away.

David watched the man, not liking the stiffness of his back, the wave of deadly intent. Looking at his partner, he worried that someday he was going to find August Booth standing over Killian’s body with a smoking gun. “What the hell is going on with the two of you?”

Killian just shrugged. It wasn’t that difficult to understand, but even Killian knew there was more to August’s protectiveness of Emma, something thicker than friendship. “I think it’s self-explanatory. August doesn’t want me near Emma.”

“This is fucking more than you doing his friend and him worrying about her, Killian,” David said sternly, remembering August’s eyes and his expression made his blood run cold. They were the eyes of a stone-cold killer, one that killed without remorse.

“I’ve got no sex vibes, or even a hint that he loves her more than he should. I think it has to do with something in the past, something in her past that made him her protector,” Killian speculated, confused about the extent of August’s hostility. There were too many damn puzzles in this case, too many loose ends.

“Well, you better find out soon, and find a way to diffuse the situation before I’ve got another homicide case on my hands. I don’t want to watch you being zipped up in a body bag.”

“Understood.”

~*~

Emma walked into the Storybrooke P.D., not bothering to look around, but keeping her eyes straight ahead. August had told her Detective’s Jones and Nolan needed her help, that they needed to ask her about the professor. Emma shut her eyes and prayed to a God she didn’t believe in anymore, or trust, that she could weather this latest storm. She needed her life back.

August quickly signed her in at the front desk and escorted her upstairs to Major Crimes. Dak came out of his office and smiled across the room at them both, trying to lend her some support. August watched Killian and David lead her into an interrogation room before he went over to talk to Captain Dak Nemo.

David placed a cup of hot coffee in front of her, trying to lend her strength, knowing this was going to be rough for her. Regret was already raging inside his body. He felt a need to rush her from the room, to hide her, protect her from this, but he couldn’t. Not him, nor Killian, or any other member of the team. They needed to find a thread, a common reason for the deaths of a night watchman and a professor of anthropology. Killian stood in the corner of the room, quiet, trying to control his need to shield her, to shoot David, and himself, for what they were going to do.

David sat on the other side of the table and grasped her hand tight. “Emma, we know this won’t be easy, and believe me, if we could spare you, we would. Meg, the professor’s secretary told us that you and Professor Geppeti were great friends, that you knew about his research and his work more than anyone else in the department, that you helped him catalogue his books and manuscripts.” David paused and looked over at his quiet partner, still and watchful. Holding out his other hand, he waited as Killian passed him an evidence bag containing a familiar book. David carefully pulled it out and Emma’s breath caught in her throat.

It was the mournful sound of her voice, thick with tears she couldn’t shed, that cut Killian the deepest.

“Oh God!” She stood up abruptly and backed away from the manuscript covered in Marco’s blood, a hand covering her mouth, her eyes so wide they dominated her face. Killian swore violently, not able to take anymore. Rushing to her, he moved her up against the wall to keep her upright when she appeared on the verge of fainting He put his body between her and the book and held her chin in his hand to turn her head, needing to have eye contact.

“Emma, concentrate. We need to know why this manuscript is important... was important to the professor,” he said, hating the demand in his voice almost as much as the lost look in her pale green eyes, the golden fleck now dull.

Emma could only nod at Killian’s voice as he commanded her, controlled her, forcing her to pull herself together. David quickly put the manuscript away. The professor chose that manuscript knowing death was coming for him. It had to be a clue, or hold some meaning.

“It’s an ancient tome, one that tells of the history of Caesar’s troops as he crossed the Rubicon in 49 BC. When Rome went to war with Pompeii, and all of Europe bled. It was the crossing of the boundary between Cisalpine Gaul and the Roman Republic. The manuscript also holds accounts of Caesar’s brief runs across the Channel beyond Calais to the British Isles.” Emma paused remembering the pride in Marco’s voice as he held the ancient book, reading the accounts of a historical civilization long since dead. There was much crossover between the History Department and the Anthropology Department especially in the areas of dead languages and manuscripts. “He discovered it on a dig in his early years in Italy. It was the basis of his thesis and his pride and joy.”

David appreciated how difficult this was for her to talk about, especially with how little time she’d had to mourn her lost friend. He was more amazed at the sight of his partner holding her strong, muttering encouraging words to her. They were moving fast, almost too fast to even recognize from one moment to the next. He doubted either of them realized what they looked like to others, how close.

“Emma, I need you to look at this symbol and tell me if it means anything to you?” David asked as he pulled the police sketch artist’s drawing of the etching found carved in the old man’s chest from the file, but not before spilling the contents on the floor.

Emma looked around Killian to see the symbol, but instead only saw the crime scene photos spread out on the floor like a nightmare too hideous to wake from. Pushing Killian away, she ran from the room barely reaching the bathroom, not caring it was the men’s room. Killian, seeing the gruesome pictures too, shot David a dark look and, with a stream of profanity, followed Emma.

“Get out!” Killian ordered the men in the bathroom staring at the young woman in the stall being ill. He looked over his shoulder at David. “Get Mary Margaret,” he ordered, David abruptly left.

Killian quickly wet a paper towel and pressed it to the back of her neck, holding her hair back as she was violently ill. He worried she would never be through as it seemed to go on for hours, despite only being moments. Seeing Mary Margaret standing in the door looking unsure, he quickly wiped Emma’s mouth and flushed the toilet. Searching her eyes, shaking her a little trying to make her focus on him, he frowned at the faraway pinpoint pupils that didn’t see. Swearing under his breath and standing, he picked her up off the floor, and into his arms. He carried Emma through the door as Mary Margaret backed out of his way, holding the door for him. “Come with me,” he instructed and Mary Margaret just nodded, rushing to keep up with Killian and David as they moved to the elevators, carrying Emma out of there.

While they drove Emma back to her condo, David couldn’t stop looking in the rear-view mirror at his partner’s stony face, and the silent body of Emma against his chest, holding onto him for dear life. Mary Margaret sat next to him twisting her hands, looking back at them, and then forward again. When they entered her home, Killian ordered them to make hot tea with plenty of sugar and walked up the stairs with her. Not even stopping in the bedroom he went straight into the bathroom and turned on the shower, hurrying as he felt the first tremors hitting her body. Stripping off her clothes and his own, he stepped into the stall not even bothering to close the door. Holding her under the hot running water, he used one hand to lift her face, cursing as he saw her pupils still constricted, her faraway look, and her too pale skin. She was shivering so fiercely he was having trouble keeping her upright in his arms.

Mary Margaret and David walked into the room, both paused at the door taking in the two naked bodies in the shower, and Killian reached out his hand for the steaming mug. Taking it from David, he forced Emma to drink it. Mary Margaret and David left the two alone as Emma started sputtering, coughing up the tea. Downstairs they stood silent, helpless, looking up to the loft, then at each other and away again. Emma should have never seen those photos.

The front door slammed open as August Booth rushed into the condo. He looked at Nolan and Blanchard, and then at the loft, he took the stairs at a dead run. Stopping at the foot of the bed he saw Emma and Killian in the middle of its vastness wrapped in blankets, with Killian still feeding her tea. She looked bad, like death, the pallor of her skin shocking and her teeth chattering. August cursed, remembering the last time he saw her this way, as shock settled in. Moving to a closet, he quickly grabbed even more blankets and covered the two of them, taking the empty cup from Killian’s hand. He hurried downstairs to get more hot tea while Killian continued to rub warmth back into her skin, rocking her against him as her body shook apart with one tremor after another. He continued to talk to her in low tones, running his hands over her face and body, keeping her with him.

Once back in the room, August mounted the bed, straddling their legs as he helped Killian feed her more tea. “Emma, drink it. You have to drink it, love,” Killian coaxed, holding her tight and August did the same. She ended up sandwiched between them as the tremors finally backed off, and her eyes closed, too tired to resist the lull of sleep. Killian felt the fatigue in his own body, the pain in his muscles from the strain of trying to hold her together as the worst of the shakes hit.

It was sometime later before David and Mary Margaret noticed the lack of movement in the loft space. Slowly climbing the stairs, David paused at the top seeing the three of them in bed, asleep. Killian on one side holding Emma almost fully across his body, and August on the other also holding her, laying across her back. Emma finally seemed to be over the worst of it, and now she was sleeping off the last effects.

An hour had passed before August came back down the stairs, leaving Killian and Emma still sleeping. David couldn’t stop blaming himself for spilling those photos, letting Emma see her friend slaughtered and lying in his own blood. Pouring yet another cup of tea, David passed it to August. None of them spoke as they waited for the others to wake. August couldn’t see anything but the nightmare, the nightmare that he, Ingrid, and Emma shared. Today she remembered, touched it, and August was terrified she would descend back to that dark place, again.

Killian came downstairs reluctant to leave her, but needing to check on the others. Seeing the three of them quietly making dinner, he was shocked to see it was after six. Clad only in his jeans, Killian sat on a bar stool and accepted the coffee August pushed his way, barely acknowledging him. August’s eyes narrowed in scrutiny and noticed Emma hadn’t been the only one to suffer a shock. He could still see it in Killian’s eyes, the very eyes that avoided his. He suspected at that very moment, Killian would’ve let him pull the trigger, or pulled it himself. The last thing he wanted was to harm Emma or cause her that kind of pain, and for the first time since he had met Killian Jones, August felt some of his protective anxiety let up. Okay, so Jones walked away again, but barely unscathed.

“How did you know?” August asked, curious how Killian recognized the early signs of shock, that Emma was going to drop out on life. How did he know taking her to an emergency room would have been worse for her than just letting her body break apart from the tremors?

Killian finally looked at him. “I recognized the signs. I’ve seen them enough up close and personal.” Killian didn’t mention the day he suffered the same.

David was equally quiet remembering it like it was yesterday. It was a few months after David met Killian. He was still a patrolman, and Killian was in Vice. Liam Jones, Killian’s brother was a desk sergeant working the front desk when a gang member high on too many drugs to classify, including a few designers, entered the P.D. with a shotgun and started blasting away. Killian, who was there for a standard check in, swept up off the street, “arrested”, and brought in under the guise of being questioned, and a few other officers drew their weapons and took out the young man, but not before Liam Jones took a shot to the gut that literally cut him in half. Killian held his brother in his arms as he bled to death, already too far gone to save, demanding someone call an ambulance. David had never heard such inhuman sounds in his life as Killian Jones in despair, and from that moment on, Killian rarely allowed himself to be touched. After they took his brother’s body to the morgue, David watched as the first tremors hit Killian, he lost his stomach, and then his eyes became unfocused.

It was the first time he’d ever seen anyone shake apart with shock. But in Killian’s case they had transported him to the hospital, shot him up with drugs, not knowing the devastating effects the narcotics would have on him. It took David and Regina over two months to get him back, for him to find himself again.

There was no way anyone could convince Killian that the hospital was the way to go, or that being so drugged into oblivion was a good alternative. After that Killian worked the streets, living there, barely coming in from the cold, and he had held other victims equally wracked with shock. It was after those last two years that David finally got Killian off the streets, and talked him into moving to Storybrooke, a nice quiet town.

Killian looked up from his drink and ignored the plate of food Mary Margaret placed in front of him. Making eye contact with August, he finally asked the question, that up until now he had been willing to wait for. “You’re going to have to tell me. Now would be as good a time as any. I’ve seen the scars.”

August recognized what Killian was asking, what he wanted to know. Looking up at the quiet loft, August just shook his head no. She deserved some privacy, some peace. He could tell part of the story, but not all, and especially not tonight. “No. Not right now. I can’t.”

Killian clenched his hands into fist, but had to respect August’s right to privacy, his and Emma’s. It occurred to Killian that he might have a better way to find out what he needed to know.

~*~

David let himself into his apartment. He had driven Mary Margaret home because her car was still at the P.D. garage where she left it earlier. She said she would call Ruby to give her a ride to the museum in the morning.

The apartment seemed very quiet, so David knew Regina wasn’t home. For a few moments, he worried about what she was getting into. Taking a beer from the refrigerator, he opened it, and downed half in less than a second.

He looked up surprised when the door opened and in walked a smiling Regina. His eyes narrowed as he took in her condition, surprised that she seemed sober and clean. But the smell of sex was still hanging off her, hopefully, since she was sober, that meant she used precautions. Regina found years ago that adding sex to chemical abuse gave her a higher high, a normally unreachable plateau, and when she wasn’t high it still gave her a rush. So she basically overdosed not only on drugs, booze, but sex, lots of sex. Self-respect was a concept lost on his sister long ago as the addiction ruled all aspects of her life.

David said hello and watched her take out a bottle of beer for herself and sit at the table. He had the case file for Professor Geppeti spread out before him, making notes and going over the case lab results. Regina reached over and picked up the artist drawing he tried to show Emma earlier, and David smiled to himself as Regina moved it around and around, turning it upside down.

“What’s this from?”

“A murder case. It was cut into the body. We’ve been trying to chase its meaning down, but so far no luck.” David sipped his beer and looked at his sister. He knew she was trying to stay clean, to make a change. So far she’d gone to every meeting, suffered through another detoxification, but nothing would ever be this difficult again.

“Well, that’s absolutely ghastly, thanks for sharing.” Regina’s eyes narrowed as she tried to recall where she’d seen the symbol before, why it looked so familiar.  “I’ve seen this before.”

David looked at her with interest. “Really? Can you remember where?”

Regina nodded and got up to start some dinner. “I’ll try. You hungry?”

David just shook his head no. He had already eaten and it had been good. “Nah, you go ahead. I ate at Emma’s.”

David missed Regina looking at him with a strong speculation in her eyes. “Emma?”

Damn, they had been so busy he missed telling Regina about what was going on in their lives. She was essentially out of the loop, something he knew she hated.

David wondered how Regina would take the news of someone new in Killian’s life. She never seemed able to find anything good about his many different relationships, and hated his last one with a passion. “Emma is a professor at the university, she found the first victim, and was friends with this man.”

Regina looked at David knowing he wasn’t coming completely clean. “Unlucky girl, she must’ve had bad karma in her last life.” David smiled at that but didn’t commit. “Spill it, David, what is so special about this Emma girl that has you all smiling.”

“Nothing, except she has Killian wrapped around her pretty finger, and is fucking him into another time zone as well.”

Regina’s mouth opened in shock. “No! Not our ‘I was crazy to get involved with some dizzy chick’ Jones? He’s fallen?” Regina moved closer resting her elbows on the table. “How fallen we talkin' here?”

David made a gesture of a man falling off a cliff, with sound effects and everything. Regina just laughed in delight. Oh my, how the mighty scream timber. It would be nice to see Killian a slave to his biological urges. Maybe it would help him start to feel some compassion for her plight. “Okay, you’ve got to tell me all. God, I hope she’s nothing like that last bitch, with her stern, greedy little eyes.”

~*~

Emma woke the next morning before Killian, and because it was Saturday, and she didn’t have to be anywhere for a while, she lay on her outstretched arm and watched him sleep. He’d woke her in the early morning when she was having nightmares, and she was surprised how nice it was having someone there to comfort her. It was strange to think she’d had him in her bed since Wednesday night, and already he knew the best spot to sleep in, how to hog all the space and covers, and how to look so perfectly innocent while he slept, that she didn’t mind. Reaching over, she gently traced the features of his face, thinking it was ridiculous for a man to look so breath-takingly beautiful.

It was the flicker of his lashes that let her know that he was awake and watching her just as intently. Smiling, she slowly unfastened the sleep shirt she was wearing, though the matching panties were surprisingly missing. He just lay there never taking his eyes off her. She grazed her fingers over her stomach, continuing upward to cup her breasts, her gaze locking his wonderful blue eyes following her every movement.  Feeling her nipples tighten under his intense gaze, she moved over him to rest on his chest, rubbing her erect nipples against him. Liking the stuttering of his breath, she angled her mouth to kiss his Adam’s apple, nipping it playfully. Following a string of warm kisses to his ear, she whispered hotly, “Are you always a voyeur, Detective?”

Killian laughed and rolled her under him, happy to see the color back in her cheeks, and the life back in her smile. She scared the crap out of him yesterday, as he watched her slip from him, knowing he would rather cut off his own hand than take her to the hospital, where they would shoot her up to forget the pain. Drugs never did anything for anyone, he knew. Feeling nothing or feeling pain? He would choose pain any day. At least you knew you were alive. Regina had chosen to feel nothing and it had become a trap so deep that she might never get out.

“With you? The way you touch yourself? Always, Professor, forever.” Killian kissed her deeply, then swept her golden hair from her face and behind her ear. “You scared the life out of me yesterday, Emma.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Her almost broken whisper touched his heart, left it aching in a spot he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Don’t,” he said, kissing her mouth shut, keeping the apologies where they belonged. “It’s not your fault. You were never supposed to see or know about any of that. I’m sorry, and David’s sorry that we opened you up to such pain and horror.”

“It’s okay, because now I know. Now, I understand,” she reasoned as she slipped her arms around his waist. “There’s nothing I won’t do to help you end this, to stop this horror.”

“I know, but Emma, I want you out of this. I need you out of this.” Killian sat up a little to look down on her. “If you want to help, then stay safe, keep out of harm’s way and it’ll make my job easier.”

She understood what he was saying, what she was costing him. It would be selfish to expect him to keep giving up so much time to watch over her, to protect her, because that left the victims undefended. They needed him as much as she did. Her need of him scared her, made her want to run away and think, but she had already promised herself never to run again. “Okay, Detective, for you I can do that,” she answered as she pulled his mouth down to hers and kissed him passionately. “But what can you do for me?”

Killian laughed in delight. _Aye_ , his girl was back and fighting. Just when he thought they were going to tumble into a discussion riddled with heavy emotions and confessions of general mushiness, she turned the tables and demanded something else. “What is it you want exactly?” he asked, tipping his head slightly and giving her his best smolder, a look that crumbled many a lady’s defenses. Not that he needed it with Emma, but she’d yet to see it.

 _Oh yeah,_ she thought, _that look screams ‘fuck me’_. She reversed them again, flipping Killian onto his back and straddling his hips. He wore a look of pure sex that made all her tingly parts turn to hot liquid. “Hmm, an early morning ride?” she asked with a lascivious smile.

Killian laughed, but then remembered the sleeping man downstairs, who most of the time would rather shoot him than look at him. If they woke him up, the tension would just climb. “August?” he said with some reluctance. Emma followed his quick glance downstairs.

She sighed and leaned down, folding her arms across his chest and resting on them. “I guess we could be concerned about Gus, if you want.”

Killian looked down at her creamy breasts flattened against his chest, the mole on the inside of the right one taunting him. “Fuck Gus, he needs to get his own place, anyway. We could consider this incentive to convince him.”

Emma laughed and leaned up to kiss him, “Oh goody, does that mean you’ll make me scream?” Hell yeah, she would let him work on that from here to eternity.

He reached between them to stroke her, warm fluid lubing his digit, then slid it inside her easily. He didn’t even question why she was so easy to set on fire at his touch; as his finger eased into her tight passage, he kissed her neck, licking the corded muscles. No matter how many times they went at it, she remained small and tight, and he loved the sensation of her muscles clamping down on him, holding him firm, squeezing him so he lost sense of everything but her. He thrust easily with one finger before adding another to increase the tightness and pressure.

"Mm... Oh, yeah... you're so good at that..." Emma moved against his fingers, pressing downward. She was impressed at just how attune Killian was to her needs, she'd never had a man be so attentive. Moving her own hands down, she explored his nipples, feeling them tighten under her fingers.

"You like that, don't you?" Killian moaned low, leaning in to nip at Emma's nipple then soothing it with a lick as he continued to move his fingers. He found himself almost on the edge from the sounds in her throat.

"Oh yeah, but Killian? I’d like it better if we stopped the chit chat and just went to straight fucking."

Killian laughed and withdrew both fingers, and placing his hands at her hips, he squeezed to hold her above him.

He was laid out under her, his erection straining forward, blindly seeking. "Take me in your hands," he ordered hoarsely. Emma reached down his body and wrapped her hands around him, running a finger across his trembling, weeping cock then spreading the moisture around the head.

"Stay on your knees," he commanded in a rough voice. Emma moaned and would have fallen forward if his hands weren’t still holding her up. Straddling his cock, she tried to sink down on him and take him inside, but he was controlling her, controlling how much she could have of him at once.

"Oh, god!" Her cry had a pleading tone to it. “Killian, please!”

Killian smiled, burying his face in Emma’s neck as she fell forward on him. Her hands released him, slowly working more of his cock into her tight passage, twisting and stretching the muscles there so she could take his larger girth.

"Am I making you hot again, Emma? Do you want me? Want me to fuck you until you come screaming?" Killian asked, watching her eyes, seeing her tongue come out and lick her dried lips. She was becoming frustrated by all the talking, the holding back, the slow torture, and him denying her.

"Dammit Killian, stop teasing or I’ll shoot you with your own gun!” The words were exchanged in heated whispers, breathed against hot skin. Emma moved herself on Killian's body as much as he would allow her to, her own fingers playing with his erect nipples. A particularly vicious twist and Killian groaned, his cock twitching.

"Stop that, devil wench. I want to come inside you, not on you. C'mere." Killian leaned back against the pillows and watched her move in his hands. He slowly removed the force he was using to hold her in place, and spreading his legs wide, he pushed Emma’s knees further apart so she was forced to sink downward on him.

"Oh fuck, Killian..." Emma breathed out in relief and pleasure as she felt herself being impaled slowly on Killian's engorged cock.

"Bloody hell, Emma..." Killian swallowed heavily as he was engulfed by the hottest, tightest passage he'd ever been in, and no matter how many times he entered it, it remained the same. He could feel himself throbbing inside of her, felt her lithe body throbbing around him as he lodged himself deep inside. It was an incredible feeling as her soft inner muscles caressed and massaged him, heating him almost like a furnace. Emma's pulse felt like staccato beats pounding along his sensitive cock, the heat of her body seemed to sear him, branding him. "You're mine. All mine..." he whispered hoarsely as he inclined his head to claim Emma's mouth with his. Arms came around his neck as his lover settled her weight more comfortably, rocking to take in the rest of his penis.

"Yours...? Okay, yes. But only if you’re mine, Killian." Emma slumped over him as a wave of pleasure almost unseated her. “Damn you, Jones, who taught you to tease!”

Killian laughed to himself, not feeling the need to tell her that she was responsible. His hands ran down her naked back to settle at her hips, helping her to move faster and harder onto him, to ride him into submission.

They rocked together gently for a long moment, lips and tongues searching, tasting, reassuring. He was enjoying the pace, liking how it was drawing the fire up his spine. Then the hunger that had engulfed them both began to rise again and movement became more urgent, more frantic.

Emma tore her mouth from his, panting, rocking her body forward. Killian shifted so he had a better anchored position, and cupped Emma's stunning arse more firmly in his hands, spreading her cheeks. She gasped and steadied herself with hands on his shoulders and began moving over him, sliding up and down the heated shaft piercing her flesh. Killian groaned when Emma flexed her internal muscles, thrusting up into that wet, welcoming heat. He leaned forward and bit her gently on the neck, sucking on the pulse point. Emma moaned low in her throat and Killian did it again, biting a little rougher this time. Emma's answer was to flex her muscles again, holding him as tight as a vice.

"You're killing me...God, you feel so good…so hot... You’ve got me already, finish me." Emma wasn’t aware of the words pouring out of her, only that she was chasing something she knew would leave her boneless for hours, hopefully days.

"No... take more, I know you can take more. I can feel you throbbing around me...” Emma gave a small scream as Killian picked her up and moved forward, tumbling her off his lap, onto her back on the mattress. And before she could protest he was in her again, nailing her firmly against the mattress.

“OH! Oh, yeah...again, Killian, again.” She was holding him tight, moving herself up into him, demanding more and more of him. Killian angled his penetration and pushed her legs further apart, gripping them, and lifting them over his shoulders, the tip of his cock leaving her body, to suddenly thrust back in, slamming home up against silken walls. The shivers and shudders that wracked her body were echoed through his own when Emma tightened around him. Their movements became faster, erratic, pounding. Killian slamming into Emma; Emma lifting taking more and more of Killian in.

It became a battle of sorts, players changing sides then working for the same team. Killian sought Emma's mouth in a ravenous kiss, thrusting his tongue into her like he was thrusting with his hips. Emma reached between them to stroke her body, to touch her clit, but Killian brushed her hand away and did it himself, pumping faster and faster to match the frantic pace their bodies were following, sliding his finger along her nerve endings, stroking her higher. He watched Emma's face, the changing, restless expressions and whispered encouragingly, "That's it...come for me...I want to see you come, Emma."

Emma convulsed, her body stiffening and contracting as she felt him shoot his load into her, following her orgasm. He continued to thrust into her willing body, holding his movement as Emma's body tightened around him, muscles clenching, milking him. He shuddered for long moments, shaking from the intensity as the orgasm moved up and down his body, activating his skin in long shudders causing her to scream his name as she was caught up in it, too. He collapsed on her, afraid to move in case it shattered them, broke them to pieces as the electrical impulses continued to flow through their bodies, moving between them like a live wire. He could feel her, feel every nerve from her head to her toe, and back again. This had never happened to either of them before. He snickered softly against her skin when he heard her say breathlessly, “Damn voyeur...”

They rested for awhile, liking the feel of each other’s sweat drying on their skin. Closing their eyes, they both drifted under the covers, still feeling the rippling effects of the electrical charge. It was the sound of a door opening downstairs, and then the slamming front door that made Emma turn on her stomach causing Killian to protest at the movement. Looking down at the now empty room, and knowing August was probably jogging his usual morning run, she turned to look at Killian.

“Oh Detective, you’re so good. He left the condo. I think this is the beginning of the end,” Emma said smiling at him as she resettled in his arms, not really minding that August was there, but not really interested in having a third party around. There were so many possibilities she had in mind, and having a houseguest was making some of them impossible. August didn’t know it, but he was probably saving Killian’s life, because some of the things she was thinking she’d like to do with him, would probably kill him.

Killian just fixed her firmly into his arms and kissed the top of her head. Aye, he was going to feel the heat later for this morning’s escapade. “To serve and protect, ma’am...”

Killian drifted off to sleep to the sound of Emma's lovely soft laughter. So what if August took his gun and shot him dead, he couldn’t say it wasn’t worth it.

~*~

Emma looked up from a sea of invoices and smiled at the loud crowd of workers, both university staff and members of the Storybrooke P.D. Even Gus had volunteered his Saturday off and already they had caught up on the destroyed work and were now working on deliveries that hadn’t been unpacked and catalogued. Three or four people had already asked if they could volunteer some hours a week when the museum finally opened. She felt immense gratitude to the kindness shown, and the group had talked about creating a special display in memoriam to Professor Marco Geppeti and his lifework. It was sad, but therapeutic.

Glancing down at her hands, she saw them shaking. Putting away her work, she moved from her chair to get a cup of hot tea to help with the shakes. Leaning against the wall with her back to her office door and the others, she didn’t see August enter the room, her eyes closed for a moment trying to block out the pictures of Marco’s death. Emma promised herself to never slip back into that world, into that nightmare.

August frowned as he put his hands on Emma’s shoulders, feeling her jump under his palms. Quickly wrapping his hands around her shoulders from behind and crossing them around her front, holding her tight to him, he hugged her, wishing he could take away the horror.

“It’s okay to cry, Em. This is a good reason to let it out,” he said gently. He felt her deep sigh and as she leaned back into his embrace, putting her head against his shoulder, her hands came up to hold his crossed arms.

Emma’s voice was low and despondent. “I know. It’s just, I don’t think I can anymore. It’s when you cry that they can hurt you more.” August growled his anger at her words, and held her even closer, closing his eyes to rest with her.

Killian stood in the doorway watching them for a moment, his face dark and unreadable as he understood there was so much between them he didn’t understand. It wasn’t easy to admit feeling jealous of a woman’s best friend, but he was jealous. It bothered him that there were secrets, dark ones, that held Emma separate from others, and August was the only one who knew them. He knew his secrets and his past were things he guarded just as tightly, but he couldn’t stop wanting to know her. Neither figure noticed him leaving the doorway.

David and Killian looked over at Emma and August as they emerged from her office. August had been playing nursemaid to Emma while Killian and David caught up on some leads. The P.D. officers on site reported, David and Killian took a few moments to hear Mary Margaret’s, but he couldn’t help watching Emma Swan as she wandered around the room talking to people.

“Well, hello, Detective,” she cooed and Killian swore under his breath at how his body responded to that breathy purr her voice made when she called him _Detective_.

“Professor. Are my people working out okay?”

Emma smiled at his cute, authoritative voice. “Absolutely. This has been so helpful. I’ve got more deliveries waiting at the mailroom, but I asked Dickie to hold them.” Emma turned to look at the group. “I don’t want any more artifacts or relics added to the menagerie. This is a large enough task as it is.”

“How much longer?” Killian asked, looking at the chaos around them, unable to believe this was tidier than what it was when they started.

“Three days, tops. I’m planning to stay late tonight, and work all day tomorrow, and some on Monday. I’m hoping that once we confirm nothing is missing, it will help you to look at other possibilities.” Emma inched closer to Killian as she spoke, her hand snaking out and up his shirt, playing with a button, completely ignoring David.

Killian tried to pretend he didn’t know she was attempting to rattle him. She had too much confidence in her ability to affect him, and he didn’t like it. Bloody hell, he was working! “You sound confident that it’s not a museum piece,” he said.  Killian swore and looked at David who was laughing under his breath at the husky sound to Killian’s voice.

“Hope springs eternal, Detective! I’m nothing if not full of hope,” she grinned.

Killian swore at her, knowing she meant that in more ways than one, and David laughing his arse off didn’t help. Killian handed over a few bucks. She was not helping his swearing problem much. Then she did it again. She changed the subject. “You stop to see Liam today?” she asked.

Killian just stared at her lips that somehow seemed even closer than before. David smiled and took pity on Killian. The Professor was a little out of Killian's league. Killian’s experience spanned women that were easy to control and ignore, and Emma Swan was a horse of a very different color.

“Actually, yes we did,” David said kindly and Emma turned to give Killian’s handsome partner some of her attention. David saw the speculation in her eyes and before she could verbalize her question, he answered it. “He’s doing fine. Restless, but your assistant, Belle, is helping with that. She hasn’t left his side.”

The group, hearing Belle’s name, started asking David questions. Normally Belle would have been at the museum with the group of the other graduate students working diligently on the task at hand. Her absence was felt by all of them. Emma had smoothed things over for her, getting her excused absences for a family emergency. Most at the university were curious of this mysterious person in Belle’s life that none of them had heard of.

Killian took the opportunity of David interacting with the students and volunteers, to grab Emma by the arm and drag her off a few feet, behind a support column. Ignoring the interested glances, he looked at her with her back plastered up against the column. She looked good. Real good! She was wearing casual clothes; a pale, floral print shirt paired with tight blue jeans, her golden blonde hair haphazardly pinned up in a loose bun, with wisps falling along her neck in soft curls. She was again wearing her black rimmed glasses that created never imagined before fantasies about stern headmistresses and librarians. Damn her! He could feel his body heating up just looking at her.

Emma watched expression after expression run over his face, and almost felt sorry for him. Okay, not really. Smiling, and liking the pressure of him against her, she tried to give him an out. “Are you coming over tonight?”

Killian looked at her. Of course, he was coming over. What the hell did she expect him to do? Leave her alone, unprotected? Killian ignored the fact August would more than likely be home, too.

Emma saw the look come over his face and decided to not make him verbalize what he couldn’t at this time. It wasn’t that he didn’t know what he was doing. It was that he just didn’t always know why. It was too vulgar to suggest he was interested in only fucking her, and completely untrue, so of course he would be over, he was just struggling for some reason that didn’t sound like a commitment or building false expectations.

“I, um...”

“I was hoping you would. Cooking isn’t my greatest talent, but I can produce something passable. I think August is on duty tonight. And I don’t want to be alone.” Emma watched his expression lighten. They both remembered their act of possessiveness last night, and even though they both committed the heinous crime of telling the other that they belonged to each other, those words didn’t mean in the light of day that they couldn’t step back a little, back it up and take it slower. Neither of them was ready to look at the harsh reality of what last night meant.

“You want to cook for me?” Killian scratched his ear and looked past her at the sounds of laughter. August was sitting with Ruby Lucas making her laugh, teasing her about something, and leaning into her. What surprised him the most was Mary Margaret Blanchard was watching with a frown on her face. Damn, and David was watching Mary Margaret watching August! These bloody Swans and Booths just corrupted the entire gene pool with their charismatic selves, charming the hell out of people left and right! “I might have to work late.”

“That’s okay. If you were expecting food before ten, you’re living in a dream world anyway. I don’t plan to finish here until after eight,” she told him as she pulled Killian to her, her tongue gently licking his lips, waiting for him to let her in. He never disappointed. She loved the way his mouth took over everything, took control. But somehow, despite the heat and pressure, he was surprisingly gentle. Emma was breathing harshly when he backed off. “I’ll save you some food if you can’t make it until late.”

“Swan?” Killian cleared his throat, and tried again. “Emma, where are we going?”

Emma just smiled. What the hell was Mary Margaret talking about? Killian wasn't unkind at all. Here he was struggling to discuss their progression, which was unfamiliar ground for the supposed non-reciprocating man before her. She wondered if Mary Margaret and the rest of those women had ever considered that he'd just never found someone worth reciprocating anything with. Did that perhaps make him a user of women, maybe, but not unkind. “Where we’re going, Detective, is yet to be determined. I sure as hell refuse to make any decisions about it until this mess is over, and I can breathe again. But I can tell you that I like you in my bed...I want you there.” Emma reached over and kissed him again, slowly and softly, tasting his mouth with extra care to emphasize her point. “Can you handle that, Detective? Can you handle a woman who wants you for your body?”

Killian pulled her away from the column and into his arms, nosing her shirt away and burying his mouth in her neck. He nipped her, but not enough to break the skin, liking the sound of her gasp. “You know I handle that very well, Professor.” Pulling away he looked at her, feeling more than he wanted to admit. Not wanting to leave it all physical, he muttered, “It’s not just about fucking you, Emma. I want...”

Emma stopped him with a hand over his mouth. “Later. This is enough for now. Okay?”

Killian licked the palm against his mouth and smiled at the darkening of her eyes. “Okay.”

“Good. So, do you want a key in case you’re late and I’m asleep? Or do you prefer to break in?” Emma’s voice took on a mischievous tone. “Oh, I know--break in.” Emma hit him lightly on the chest. “You can be the burglar again, and I’ll be the innocent homeowner, unaware a sexual deviant is loose in her neighborhood.” Killian started to laugh at her antics. “I can do the whole princess in distress bit, and I’ll even leave an upstairs window open so you can climb in...”

Killian’s eyebrow went up at the word “princess” and Emma, catching his amusement immediately hit him again.

“I’ll call when I’m on my way,” he said. “Save the key for later, but do not,” Killian moved in overbearingly to emphasize his point, “do not leave any bloody windows open. Promise?”

“Pinky promise, Detective. Geez! Down boy! Are all you protector types so uptight?” Emma kissed him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “No matter. I took the liberty of entering you into my security system. Just enter by the garage. There’s a keypad. Just type in your access code.”

“I’ve got an access code?”

“You do now, it’s ‘ _pirate’_. Think you can remember that, Detective?”

“Pirate?” he asked, his brows furrowing with a mixed look of pride and disappointment across his face.

“Yeah, well, you did kinda pillage and plunder, ravish me completely, a mere 12 hours or so after we met,” she explained with coy smile.

“I think you helped some with the pillaging and plundering, love, and I think I was ravished more than you. But I don’t blame you, after all, I am devilishly handsome.”

Understanding he was deflecting what could have been a very serious moment, Emma laughed at his words as she moved away quickly before he could grab her again. Killian followed, running his hand over his scruff, wondering when exactly he’d lost control. In truth, he wondered if he ever had it in the first place.

As he followed her back to the others, his phone rang at the same time David’s did. Both knew what that meant. David quickly said goodbye to the others, and stopped to give Emma a kiss on the cheek. Following Killian out of the building, David laughed at his partner’s acid laced, “Get your own!”

Both detectives missed August’s phone ringing soon after theirs. August quickly took the call, stopped to squat next to Emma, and talked to her seriously.

~*~

As they entered Major Crimes, Nemo’s secretary pointed down a hall. “He wants you in conference room 2B.” David nodded, acknowledging the request as he followed Killian. Opening the door, they were surprised to see a few other people there, including Philip from the ME’s office.

“What’s up, Cap?” Killian asked as they entered the room, David automatically heading for the coffee machine on the table. Before Dak could answer, the door opened behind Killian admitting August Booth into the room. “What the hell is he doing here?” Killian demanded. _Who the hell is watching Emma?_ He frowned, swearing under his breath. She gets into trouble when left alone for long periods of time. David handed him his coffee, and held out his hand for a dollar.

“Booth is now on your team, Jones. He’s temporarily assigned to Major Crimes. So, take a seat,” Dak ordered and watched as Killian and August both sat down on opposite ends of the table, keeping eye contact with each other.

“Gentlemen, I’m far from happy,” Nemo started. “This is an unhappy man before you. I need results on this university thing and I need it yesterday, and before any more incidents!” Nemo held up his hand as Killian started to comment. “Does anyone else here see the chunk missing from my ass. I’ve been chewed by the Police Commissioner? It seems his “good” friend, the Chancellor of UM Storybrooke, called to express his complaints. They’re concerned no one will want to send their children to a university with a murderer running rampant and unchecked.”

Philip looked up from his reports and felt bad for his old friend. “Granted, I can see your problem here, Dak, but in truth, it was the mucking up on the first murder scene that has made it damn near impossible to connect the two physically, except for them both being on university soil. That destruction of evidence was due to university security, and the Chancellor, for not closing the site and calling us in immediately.” Philip turned red in the face. “Dammit, Dak! They moved the body!”

Nemo rubbed a hand over his eyes, and sunk down into a chair. He was tired. “I know. I know that we lost some valuable information, but we need to get on this fast. I’m concerned here, people, and not just professionally. This is personal. They can take my badge if they want it. But I’ve got a bigger concern.” Nemo looked over at Killian and then August. “What connection do we have, Detective, between the first murder, the break-in, and the second murder?”

Killian knew. August knew. Moreover, Nemo sure as bloody hell knew. Killian had little to no option, but to voice it. “Professor Emma Swan. She’s our common thread.”

Dak abruptly stood back up and looked at the group before him. “Emma Swan is practically my daughter, people. I don’t think anyone here in this room wants to have to tell me that something has happened to my daughter, now do you? I couldn’t give two shits about the damn enrollment at UM Storybrooke. Emma Swan is a major concern here - both she and the victims. I already have one kid down in the hospital and I won’t stand for another one! Not her. I want this worked around the clock! Is this clear, gentlemen?” The group of them nodded and left the room to go rework what they had for evidence.

“Not you, Jones. Stay.” David looked at Killian, and then he and August left the room.

Killian looked at the tired man. “Booth shouldn’t be in on this. He’s too involved. A loose cannon.”

Dak looked at the clenched muscles in Killian’s jaw. “And you’re not, Jones?”

Killian conceded the point, but there was no way in hell he was walking away from this case. Resting his hip against the conference table, he waited on Nemo to get on with it.

“This thing between you and Booth. I need it buried, and I mean deep. There’s no time for two alpha males fighting over the same piece of meat or turf, and I’ll shoot you both if you start pissing on the walls in my bullpen trying to mark territory!” Killian smiled at the image of August taking a whiz on the walls. Aye, he could see that. “You’re the primary on this, Jones, but Booth is close on your heels. He stays in the know, an equal. He’s protective of Emma, and including him is better than having him sneaking around on his own. Am I making myself clear?”

“Aye, Cap.” Killian sat down firmly on the table and looked at Nemo with dark eyes. “But I need to be in the know, too.”

“What do you mean?” Nemo asked. Jones was making him uncomfortable. He couldn’t allow that.

“Emma. I want to know about the scars, the nightmares, and why she had a total breakdown yesterday.” August wouldn’t tell, but Nemo might. Killian didn’t know why it was so important to him to know about her, but he needed it.

Nemo sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I was meaning to thank you for getting her out of here quick. Emma... she’s special to me. A hospital would’ve been a bad place for her. Her memories of hospitals are almost as bad as anywhere else.”

“Dak.” Nemo was shocked at Killian’s use of his given name. Killian kept himself apart, but this obviously meant something to him.

“Okay, cool it here. I’ll be right back.” Dak left the room and caught David by the arm before entering his office. “Get your liaison officer down here, immediately. I need them to take charge of this situation with the university, and the Commissioner’s Office. Who is it?”

“Ruby Lucas,” David answered, smiling at Nemo’s cursing. Captain Nemo and Ruby had had a few run-ins. Ruby had messed up a few of their cases and then went directly to the Captain to report.

Nemo headed into his office, opened a drawer in his desk and took out a huge file. Coming back out folder in hand, he pointed it irritably at David, “Well then, hell! Tell her to get down here and report to me, immediately!” Dak walked back to the conference room rubbing the back of his neck. Who the hell assigned Ruby to a Jones case? It had to be a joke!

Once back in the conference room, he saw Killian looking out a window drinking a cup of coffee, patiently waiting. It was obvious Jones wasn’t going anywhere until he got the full story. Turning to close the door, Dak looked across the bullpen and made eye contact with August Booth, with an almost indistinguishable nod of his head, August acknowledged what Nemo was about to do.

Dak put the file on the conference table as Killian turned to join him, and pushed it across to Killian. Killian quickly sat down and opened the folder. Going for coffee and keeping his head turned, looking out the window, Dak waited, mentally reading along with Killian, every word, looking at every picture. He could feel the temperature of the room dropping as Killian read, with an occasional swear word muttered under his breath.

“None of this was in her record that we ran,” Killian stated, unable to take his eyes off the crime scene pictures. The blood was everywhere. No wonder she went into shock! It was like the past coming back, reopening and swallowing her alive! Small wonder she felt she was cursed.

“It wouldn’t be, none of it. It was suppressed and closed by Internal Affairs.” Killian looked across the table at Dak with his hands pressed together fingertip to fingertip. “August Booth almost lost his badge over it.”

Killian didn’t care why or how, but he knew suddenly that he owed August Booth a lifetime debt.

“Emma was brought up in the foster system?” he asked quietly.

“Yes. Emma was abandoned as a baby and spent time in a group home. She was adopted at 6 months old and lived for four years with her new family. Then the couple got pregnant naturally and they no longer wanted Emma and she was tossed back into the system.” Dak watched as Killian quietly put the file back together and then put his hands on top of it, looking at Dak.  Killian nodded still unable to remove those pictures from his mind.

“So she never cries because...”

“Because in one of these group homes there was a boy who made her life a misery. He would burn her, tie her up, or lock her in a dark closet. And her crying just made him happy, too happy, made him abuse her more.” Killian’s eyes turned a dark, stormy blue, and Nemo was glad in some ways that Neal Cassidy was dead, because if he weren’t already in hell, Jones would have put him there.

“August’s connection?”

“August was another kid from the home. He did everything he could to protect young Emma. But then Neal became creative with a boning knife.”

Killian closed his eyes against the remembered crime scene photos he had just seen of Emma Swan sliced to pieces and bleeding to death. Not child Emma, but grown Emma, beautiful Emma. Her scars. The darkness inside grew, the rage, and he didn’t know what to do with it or where to put it.

“Eventually, someone took notice that not all was as it seemed in the home and Emma was fostered out, with August, to Ingrid Arden. Ingrid is the person to thank for Emma still being with us. She nurtured the girl, encouraged her to be the woman she is now, and the two have a strong bond. Ingrid is Emma’s mother in every way except biologically.”

Killian stood and nodded to Nemo. There was nothing left to say. Emma Swan had protectors because she needed them. There was something about her that drew people to her, made them want to take care of her. Perhaps it was the sense that she was a survivor, that despite her delicate body, there was an iron-will. A person who refused to die. So she charged on, refusing to yield, and those around her stepped in front of her trying to spare her. Emma Swan was the rock that those who loved her most, broke themselves upon. Killian didn’t know whether to feel afraid he had joined the others, or honored. He knew one thing. Emma Swan scared the shit out of him!

When Killian emerged from the room, the first person he saw was August Booth, who quickly moved through the door into the stairwell. Killian motioned to David that he would be back, and quickly followed August through the door. Stopping, he could hear the footsteps above him and followed up the stairs to the roof. On the roof, sitting on the side of the building, overlooking Storybrooke, and smoking a cigarette, sat August Booth.

“Want one?” August asked not bothering to look back at Killian. He knew who it was.

“I don’t smoke.”

August laughed bitterly. “Neither do I. But today? Today I smoke.” August searched the landscape thinking of the unknown monster that was stalking his family, again. This time it was something he didn’t know, something he couldn’t understand. “You know about Emma?”

“I read the file, but I don’t really know do I? No one really knows but you, Emma, and Ingrid.” Killian moved closer and stood beside the man, wondering how he survived it.

Killian watched the man light another cigarette. “It started before Emma. Neal always seemed like a nice kid. To the grown-ups he was perfect, obedient, sweet, and helpful. But he was bitter, and cruel. His father had abandoned him, like so many of us in there, but he never got over it, kept his hatred close to his heart.

“And Emma...” Killian asked curiously.

“She’d just had her fourth birthday when she got returned, those fuckers didn’t want her anymore because they were having their own child. Emma was an unknown, no history of her biological folks at all, and they decided she was too much of a risk. She cried, constantly. She didn’t understand what was going on and she wanted her mommy, the one who’d taken care of her for four years. Neal would sit and watch her cry, smiling at her but doing nothing to help cheer her.” August smiled wistfully as he added, “I was the only one who could console her.”

“What about the people who ran the home, did they do nothing?” Killian asked in disgust.

“They tried to make her life safe, but they couldn’t protect her from Neal, who saw her as a victim, his victim, a source of fun and torture. Emma was tortured and traumatized by him for most of her young life. Her life was full of screaming and fighting. When I was 17 and Emma was 10, a new administrator started to work at the home. She saw exactly what was going on and she pulled every string to get Emma out of there. Emma wouldn’t leave without me and despite being almost at the age to look after myself, Ingrid took us both in.”

August paused and took another long draw from the cigarette before he continued. “It took a couple of years, but eventually Emma blossomed. She did well in school, she’s extremely intelligent, graduated two years early from high school and started college, while I joined the police as soon as I finished college, to the horror of my hippy foster mother, Ingrid. Anyway, Emma was twenty, getting ready to graduate, early I might add, and she was accepted in the master’s program in Storybrooke.  She had a scholarship for the program and her whole life to live. Time to put the past behind her. She was surprisingly resilient and untouched by everything, except that she wouldn’t cry.” August threw the smoke on the ground and stomped it out, knowing that the worst was to come, that Killian wouldn’t stop until he heard the full story. Having read the file, he knew the basics, knew how bad it was, but no one had any real idea. They couldn’t.

“Well, I better get back, Jones.” August tried to walk away, but Killian stood in front of him.

“I need to know it all. The scars, they aren’t just on her skin. She had a nightmare last night. The shock...it wasn’t the first time, was it? She was reliving her own nightmare.” Killian couldn’t back down. He needed it all.

“Dammit, Jones, leave it! This isn’t something that you need to know. You read the report. It was all there.” Killian just cocked his head to the side and held his ground. August swore under his breath and sat back down. The bastard was as stubborn as Emma. They were going to have an interesting relationship.

“We thought it was over, but we were wrong. Emma had just started graduate school, and she was happy, really happy. She was dating, meeting people, going on trips, and for the first time she actually felt free. Then one night, she went out to dinner with Ingrid. Emma was dating a nice young guy, who had stayed at her place studying for a test. When they got home he was there, tied to a chair, and gagged, with Neal waiting for them.”

Killian could feel a sense of dread hitting him as August continued.

“He never got over the fact that Emma, his favorite plaything, was taken away from him. He was possessive, she belonged to him, to use and abuse.” August quickly lit the last cigarette and looked out over Storybrooke again, seeing something else, something darker. “Emma knew. She just knew. Her cell phone was in her pocket. She hit my number on autodial before he grabbed her.”

Killian heard the thickening of August’s voice as he cleared his throat. “I was busy. I heard the phone...the ring. And ignored it.” August’s voice lowered. “I was busy. I was on nights and this was my day off, so a female friend of mine was over.” August rubbed his neck. “I was busy, so I didn’t answer.”

Killian swore under his breath. No wonder August was so possessive and protective of Emma. He failed her once. He wouldn’t do it again. “Tell me the rest.”

August swallowed roughly, the images from that night still too raw. “Neal beat up Ingrid and tied her to a chair. Then with her watching, he beat up on Emma. While Emma lay on the floor, he made sure she was watching while he tortured and murdered her boyfriend. Both Ingrid and Emma were already starting to suffer shock. However, that wasn’t enough for Neal. No. He needed a fix, something denied him since Emma had been taken from him.” August’s voice became graver and quiet. “He needed her to cry and beg.”

“She wouldn’t do that!” Killian didn’t know how he knew, but he did. Emma Swan didn’t understand surrender.

August looked at him with a dawning respect. Killian Jones didn’t seem the type to understand or pay attention to anyone, but here he was doing that very thing. It worried August, that there was more to the relationship than he had considered.

“No. She didn’t cry or beg...not even when he cut her.” Killian swore, feeling the bile rising in his throat, remembering the pictures of her bloodied body. “Not deep cuts mind you...but shallow ones. They were long and shallow, letting her slowly bleed to death and feel the cutting pain. When torturing someone, it’s important not to let the pain overwhelm. If you control it, gauge it to such a level that it remains just tolerable, then you can really drag it out...”

Killian was appalled at how cold and matter-of-factly August spoke. It was almost as if he was reciting a training manual or some lesson drilled home, repeatedly. In his mind, all he could see was Emma’s small body lying in a pool of blood, her expressionless eyes staring off somewhere, to a place far away, untouchable. “August...”

“He got excited and made a few mistakes. Neal cut her too deep in some places on her back and side. She still wears those scars today. Emma started to bleed out too fast, and still she refused to beg or cry. When he realized his mistake, he started screaming at her, demanding she beg, but she was already slipping away into shock. The blood loss was already too great.” August rubbed a hand over his eyes trying to erase the memory. “After I was finished...being busy, I checked my phone and saw her number on the Caller ID. I tried to call her back, but there was no answer...it was late and there was no answer. I don’t know why I didn’t just go back to bed, but...something...I don’t know, just something wasn’t right.”

August turned and looked at Killian directly for the first time since he’d stepped onto the roof, his eyes cold and dead. “You ever just know things for no reason? It’s like a coldness moves in... a sense of dread? And all you know is that, if you don’t check it out, that you’ll never forgive yourself?

Killian nodded. He had felt it many times. It was that sense that led him into the alley the night he found Regina. At first he almost walked away when he noticed two adults fucking up against a trash receptacle outside a player’s club, but something made him stay...something beyond being a voyeur wanting a peepshow. The moment the man started beating her...he knew why he had to be there. To save Regina. It was his job.

“When I got there, I found the door unlocked. Emma never had a chance to lock it when she got home. I slowly entered with my gun drawn, because I could hear a man’s voice screaming...yelling. When I walked in he was kicking her, screaming at her. He was angry because she was dying...escaping him again.” August paused for a second. “I shot him, and shot him. I emptied an entire clip into his evil fucking body, and then I calmly dropped the spent clip, reloaded and shot him again until that clip was done.” August absentmindedly searched for another cigarette, but he had only bummed three. “A neighbor heard the noise, the gunshots, and called the police. When they found us, Ingrid was crying hysterically, calling to Emma. Emma was already gone...shaking in shock, too cold. And I, like some worthless fuck, just kept shooting, my gun clicking over and over, because I had spent all my rounds.”

Killian didn’t say a word, or offer any comfort. He would have done the same. Neal Cassidy would have died a thousand deaths, and burned in hell for all eternity, if he had his way. It was impossible to see August as anything but a hero.

“They almost took my badge for use of excessive force.” August laughed a humorless laugh. “I didn’t care, because I failed. I failed those who meant the most to me. I failed to protect and serve. They could’ve had it.” August’s voice broke, and his head went into his hands. He broke. “Oh god! I was fucking a woman whose name I can’t even remember, while he was destroying my family! She lay there, lost...in the horror. She called me! Dammit! She called, and I didn’t answer!”

Killian watched the man break down and cry. Not knowing what to say or how to say it, or even if it would be welcomed; he just sat down silently next to August.

“He was my friend, my fucking friend, the only brother I ever knew,” August sobbed. “Before Emma, even during, in the home, we were the best of friends and I couldn’t stop him from hurting her, from making her cry. He’d pull his knife on me if I said anything he didn’t like, and I was too much of a coward to say anything.”

Looking at the man, knowing that there would never be any words to take away the guilt, or remove the pain, Killian felt sick. These people, August, Ingrid, Emma, how could they survive this? When Regina lost her boyfriend, she checked out, but here were three people living through unimaginable pain and torture, and they survived...went on.

“What happened August? How did you get Emma back?” Killian scrambled to find a question that would distract August, bring him out of his grief.

“She didn’t talk for a year, not really. Only whispers, almost like the sound would break her apart. Ironically, the family that had given her up all those years ago, they all died in a house fire. With no living family, some lawyer had dug into their history and found the adoption papers filed for Emma. So he arranged for her to be the beneficiary of their estate. She’d come into a ton of money so Ingrid and I bought her the condo. We wanted her to have a place free of painful memories. We had it designed with lots of windows and sunshine. Everyday Ingrid would take Emma out into the garden and work on the plants, walk with her down to the docks and sit for hours watching the water. I was working nights, and I’d come home in the morning and find her awake, just sitting there, staring out the window at the ocean. We’d gotten her a leave of absence from her graduate program. So, we sat and waited.” August smiled at Killian with humor for the first time. “I would make her breakfast every morning when I came home. I made the same thing for a year...scrambled eggs, toast, and sausage links. She sat there in the dark with a blanket covering her, shivering, too timid to speak or raise her voice. Until one day, a year later, something snapped. She threw her breakfast at me! And started ranting and raving about yogurt and fruit, and how she hated scrambled eggs and sausage, and what the hell was wrong with a bagel every once in a while.”

August laughed and got himself under control as Killian snickered. Now that sounded more like the Emma Swan he knew! “We never knew why she came back, or how it happened. It was as if she took a year off to heal in her mind...to come to some understanding in her life. Anyway, Ingrid came running into the room at the sound of Emma’s angry voice, and she wept. It was so good to have our Emma back. I think that a part of her, a large part of her realized that dying, giving up was letting Neal...the monster...win. So she healed herself enough to go on living. She survives to spite him.”

“Is that when she began to feel that she’s cursed?” Killian asked. August looked over sharply at Killian in surprise, and a sense of awe. Killian had gotten closer to Emma than he thought.

“Yeah,” he answered.

Killian just nodded.

“Understand this Jones! I’ll kill any person who hurts her, without a moment's hesitation. Hell! I should just shoot you now and get it over with. Your reputation with women sucks, and I hate that she wants you, that you could be the one thing she can’t get over.”

“I’m not going to hurt her.” Killian never made a promise he couldn’t keep. Suddenly it seemed that to him, Emma Swan had more internal walls and protection than even he did. If anyone was in danger of having his or her heart trampled, it was Killian. “How do you do it, August? How do you live with this anger towards Neal Cassidy? I want to kill something!”

“I don’t know what you’ll do, but me...I shot the bastard full of holes, and spat on his grave, and prayed to God that his black soul would rot in hell!” August looked at Killian with dark, angry eyes full of barely suppressed rage. “It wasn’t enough.” Killian nodded his agreement. How could it be? “Just know that I’ve got a bullet with your name on it.” August stood up and started back towards the stairs. Killian shrugged and followed him.

“Understood.”

~*~

 


	6. A Legend Among Stories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your fantastic comments. I love reading them and knowing how much you are enjoying this story.
> 
> You all know my rock for this story has been ilovemesomekillianjones. She is the best at what she does and I'm ultra lucky to have her walk the path with me. 
> 
> No real chapter warnings for this chapter. Just remember this is a murder mystery you guys, bad shit is gonna happen.

**Chapter 6: A Legend Among Stories**

Killian and David quickly moved all their files and information into the conference room so the new members of the team could coordinate with them on all parts of the investigation. August was with them, reading the same reports and making a timeline on a large white board, as well as adding possible leads and contacts. With the door open, they noticed Ruby going to the Captain’s office. Killian swore loudly, and passed David a dollar. August watched the transaction with interest, and after Killian wandered off to check on new reports, he looked at David.

“So what’s with the money, and how can I get in on the Jones charity drive?” August grinned. He estimated since he’d met the partners, David had to have benefited around fifty bucks or so.

David laughed and shook his head. “It won’t do you any good. I save the money and donate it to a charity in his name. So even I don’t benefit. I decided on a youth center downtown.”

August nodded, agreeing that it was a good cause, and one that looked to be personally funded by one Detective Killian Jones. There was no way that man was cleaning up his language, no matter what the cost. He was just too… too profane. “So how about Ruby? What’s that story?”

“Oh, best to walk away from that, Gus. It’s a tale of pure unadulterated hatred,” David told him. At Gus’s raised brow, he relented. “Ruby withheld vital information on one of our cases about six months ago, and it cost a life. Killian has a long memory, and Ruby was given a warning for it. Since then she’s been good, but Killian isn’t necessarily the forgiving type.”

August knew Ruby from one of his own previous cases and he thought she was okay, just intense. It was like she was picking your brain, trying to absorb all she could. August could understand that kind of dedication and driven behavior. It was the way he led his life. It helped that she had a tight body with a mischievous, sometimes mean, glint in her eye that August found appealing. A real man-eater--just what the doctor ordered!

They both looked up when Ruby and Cap came out of his office. Ruby had a sheet of paper in her hand and was already talking on her phone, taking a seat at an empty desk. Nemo looked at the two of them, but obviously not finding what he wanted, he quickly scanned the bullpen until his eyes lit on Jones exiting the elevator.

“Jones!” Killian looked up to see Nemo waving him into his office.

“What’s up, Cap?”

Nemo shut the door behind Killian, separating them from prying eyes and ears. Police officers were the worst gossips. “Ruby Lucas,” Nemo stated. The man winced at the stream of vulgarity coming from Killian’s mouth, then watched in amusement as Killian peeled off a twenty and handed it to him. “Keep your money, you're going to need it.”

Killian pushed the cash back into his pocket and watched Nemo with narrowed eyes, a sense of doom hitting him square in his stomach. “Why am I going to need it?”

“This ‘not so silent war’ that you and Lucas have going, it needs to stop. I want you to put your differences aside and get this job done.”

“I don’t trust her,” Killian groused. “There’s something about her… I don’t know. I lack the words, but she puts my hair on end, and pisses me off!”

Killian couldn’t explain it. When he first met her, he thought she was attractive, someone he might want to know better, but as soon as he really read her, everything changed. He couldn’t explain it or even understand it, but there was something about her. That _something_ put him on edge. Every time she moved into his personal domain, or interfered in one of his cases, the sense of dislike increased. Ruby had all the color of life, but she let superiority and jealousy color her personality black.

“Well, I need you to put it aside, or get over it. We need her. Ruby is a damn fine investigator, smart and persistent.” Nemo held up his hand when Killian started to interrupt. “It is true, she works toward her own ends, and has caused problems. However, I have her personal promise she won’t get in your way, that she’ll only work as a team player. Her computer skills are without a doubt the best around. So, now I need you to give me your word that you’ll treat her better. Let her be part of the team.”

“Bloody hell! I’ll try, okay? I’ll try.” Killian rubbed the back of his head. That was it; he was going to have to suspend trying to clean up his language until later, because otherwise he was going to have to get a bank loan.

“Killian, give her a break. Ruby has a long history with the police force. Her dad, Commander Lucas was one of the finest, meanest, toughest cops you ever wanted to meet. He didn’t raise his children to be losers, to be less than the best.” Killian stopped to listen to what Nemo was saying, determined to understand what the hell kept Ruby so protected in the department, despite the mistakes she’d made in the past.

“She’s generational?”

“Yeah, her father, grandfather and grandmother, even her great-grandfather. Her dad wanted nothing more than to have his sons follow his example, to keep up the family tradition of law enforcement. Unfortunately, his two sons weren’t interested. One became an accountant, and the other a high school English teacher and physical education coach. Ruby was the only one that wanted to be a cop.” Dak sat down on the edge of his desk. “She had two strikes against her. First, her father wasn’t what you would call enlightened, and second, she has severe asthma. She couldn’t even pass the physical exam, let alone the obstacle course.”

“How bad is her asthma?” Killian asked, his brow knotting with concern. He never noticed Ruby looking or acting sick, but then again, he chose not to notice her at all.

“Bad. After a few run-ins with you, she had full blown attacks.” Dak watched emotions run across Killian’s face, uncertain what they were, how he was feeling. “Strangely enough, she idolizes you. Sees you as the very image she wants to be, and what you take for pigheaded stubbornness and meddling is actually her trying to simulate you, trying to get your attention.”

Killian swore aloud again. He didn’t have time for this, for Ruby. It was unfair of Nemo to use sentimentality to try to get him to give Ruby another chance. It didn’t matter her background, how cheated she was by life. Bloody hell, they’d all taken hits and survived! Ruby Lucas was a loose cannon. Killian ignored the fact that many thought the same about him.

Killian sighed and looked at Dak. “Okay, what exactly do you want from me?”

“Just treat her nicer, smile...” Nemo almost lost it at the expression on Killian’s face. “Let her be an active part of the team, and you might find she’s a real asset.”

Killian clenched his jaw and rocked back on his heels. He wanted to warn Nemo if anything went wrong because of Ruby, that this time it could mean endangering Emma, but something stopped him. He refused to employ emotional blackmail just to get his way. What the devil was going on? Did every person in the whole fuckin’ city have him on their goody-two-shoes list to turn into a “nice” person? “Fine! Whatever you want, Cap.” First the anger management classes, and now this! It was just too much for Killian.

As Killian left the room, he realized there was one person on the list that wasn't trying to shape him into a kind, sappy, caring individual. Emma Swan. She seemed to think he was perfect the way he was, and surprisingly, that bugged the hell out of him. He wanted her to demand more… want more from him, and instead, by merely not demanding and asking, he found himself being different around her. Dammit, before he went to bed tonight he was checking under her bed to make sure there were no damn pods there. Body frickin' snatchers, it had to be! Killian didn’t even notice that he equated sleeping with Emma's bed, and intended to stay there.

Nemo smiled to himself as he watched his detective leave, scratching his ear and talking under his breath. Killian Jones was one confused man, and knowing the source of most of his confusion, Dak had to commiserate with him. Emma and Ingrid weren't easy. Liking his life, and the fact that he gets his way with his men, ignoring the fact that in his personal life it was Ingrid that won that right, Dak decided it was time to take care of his newest pain in the ass, Detective August Booth.

Killian started back for the conference room when he stopped in his tracks and looked over at Ruby working on the phones. Ruby didn't notice him when he first stopped at her desk, but looking up from the phone as she was on hold, they made eye contact. Finally hanging up after obtaining information, Ruby looked at him with a brow raised.

"Lucas? What the hell are you doing out here?" he said, trying to keep his voice normal and not bellow at her.

Ruby just looked at him in shock. She was working. What the hell did it look like? _Lummox_.

"The team has moved into the conference room, and last time I checked you were on the team," he continued, before moving away. He stopped, looking back at the flabbergasted officer, "Oh, and Ruby, you might want to get a move on. August was talking about ordering food, so unless you have a fondness for meat, meat, and meat, I suggest you get in there with your order, quick."

He walked away with a twinkle in his eye and a slight smirk. Technically not a smile, but the closest he was going to come. Ruby gathered her stuff with haste and headed for the team room, walking in a daze. _Damn,_ she thought. _He actually called me by my name!_

Less than an hour later, Ruby made her last call, while eating her third slice of pizza. Killian was correct in his assessment that August was ordering everything with meat. Luckily Ruby seemed to like her pizza piled high with various meats. Packing up her stuff, she readied herself to head out.

"Killian, I have a meeting at City Hall with the Mayor, Commissioner, and Chancellor. It looks to be a long one, more than likely not over until eight or nine tonight. Do you want me to check back in here before calling it a night?" she asked casually.

David was surprised how easily Ruby was fitting into the group. For once, she wasn't in everyone's face, and she was proving to be helpful with the computers and phone work.

Killian looked over at Ruby and shook his head no. "If it's that late, just call it a day. I've got you scheduled to work at the museum tomorrow. You can report anything pertinent over there." He had plans tonight. Someone was cooking him dinner, and Killian didn't want to miss that opportunity.

Both David and Killian watched her leave, then watched August rush after her to talk as she waited for the elevator. The partners looked at each other and shrugged. August seemed better equipped to like Ruby more than the rest of them. Personally, Killian didn't care, if it meant August was going to keep Ruby out of his hair.

They were closing down for the day when David’s cell started to ring. Killian shut his eyes and prayed it wasn't another murder or another case. "Hello?" David frowned at the noise coming from his phone.

It wasn't. It was Regina.

"David? David! It's Regina!" She had to scream into the phone over the noise of the club. At just past seven on a Saturday, it was already slamming.

"Regina? Can I talk to you later? We were just..." David looked at Killian and grimaced. Killian was ready to curse a river of words. He didn't want to have to give up dinner with Emma to go bail Regina out of some cheap gin joint, or scrape her off some beer-drenched floor. Ever since August told him of Emma's story, it was as if his skin was itching... needing to find her, and make sure she was safe. Only cool sanity kept him from picking up the phone half a dozen times to call her.

Regina's voice quickly interrupted David. "I found it! David, your design! The symbol! I found it!"

~*~

Belle watched Liam sleep again. He was getting stronger every day. He was still in pain, but it was getting better. Today he used fewer painkillers than yesterday, and they took a walk around the ward. Liam was shaky on his feet, but as the day progressed, he got better. Last night they transferred him out of the ICU and sent him to general care.

It was good to see him resting without the aid of drugs. Belle was hoping he would be released home in the next few days. While Emma was being great covering her work, and bringing her assignments from the university, Belle knew she couldn’t continue like this indefinitely. Today Emma had dropped off a pizza for Liam and a turkey sandwich for Belle, while she was on her way to the museum. It was impossible not to appreciate how much care Emma gave to them, and how much she worried about their health.

Leaving Liam in his slumber, Belle picked up his jug of water and emptied its stale contents. Taking it down the hall to the ice machine, she stopped to talk to the unit clerk and a couple of nurses. After exchanging pleasantries, she continued on to refill the pitcher.

Belle wasn’t paying much attention to anything as she filled the jug with ice. The machine was in a private alcove, slightly removed from the bustle of the unit, and she appreciated the low humming of the machine, quieter than the buzzing and bleeping of medical machinery, and it strangely soothed her.  It was the gloved hand that covered her mouth, and the piercing point of a knife in her back that made her gasp, sent her heart racing out of control, and her eyes open wide in fear. The raspy voice was low and indistinguishable. “Where is it?”

Giving a small whimper behind the glove, Belle felt the tightening of the hand as it moved from her mouth to grasp her throat, the knife cutting into her side. Shaking her head in fear, Belle tried to convey that she had no idea what the person wanted. From down the hall, she could hear Liam’s voice. He must have woken, realized she wasn't there, and gone in search of her. The hall seemed so long, and safety was a mere concept when a lunatic held a sharp knife to your back and was choking away your life.

Still holding the pitcher of ice in her hand, Belle pushed back into her assailant, trying to catch him off guard, then she threw the ice over her shoulder as hard as she could, into her attacker's face. When she stepped back, she pushed her body further onto the knife’s blade. Pulling away, and running out of the dark room, Belle grabbed her side, and screamed Liam’s name. She felt the figure brush past her, and heard the sound of a door closing. Leaning against the wall for support, Belle held her hand against her side, blood seeping through the cut on her dress.

“Belle!” She could hear Liam’s voice and the sounds of running feet before she collapsed to the ground. “Oh God! She’s bleeding! Someone get a doctor...”

~*~

Killian and David walked into The Hollow Oak with quite a stir. It was a player's club, exclusive, and uninhibited. Live music drew in the college crowd and young adults from all Storybrooke and outlying smaller communities. The place was a hotbed of drugs and sex, Storybrooke's answer to an out of control, decadent society. Little surprise that Regina found a home there. The team of Jones and Nolan walked in, the word _cop_ practically tattooed on their foreheads. David had experience with having to walk through crowds. He just walked behind Killian and let the Jones attitude clear a swath through the throng.

David saw Regina first and tapped Killian on the shoulder to point the way. Killian had been busy sneering at a bouncer type and moving the general masses aside with his bad boy demeanor. Regina was sitting at the bar facing the band. The music was loud and David was impressed as the lead singer was singing real words--distinguishable ones! Regina watched them, almost entranced.

"Regina!" Regina turned towards her brother, hearing him call over the sound of the band.

"Dave!" Regina hugged her brother tight, giggling in his ear. David shook his head violently. The smell of malt liquor was strong, and seemed to seep from Regina's veins. Discreetly looking down, he checked her arm for track marks. None. Thank God! She had been on a bout of sobriety, obviously ending tonight, but it was good to see she was still clean.

Regina looked over to see Killian looking all too official and not too pleased to be in the notorious Hollow Oak. It was too funny watching him give narrowed-eyed stares as he sized up the customers, for a drug bust, but the sight of her straight-laced, morally uptight brother in her world made her giggle even more.

"Regina, whatcha got for us?!" Killian asked, wanting to get out of this place as soon as possible. The smell of smoke alone was making him lightheaded. He didn't enjoy smoke, especially distinctively good quality reefer. Secondhand narcotic smoke was enough to make him lose all sensation in his back and arms and send tingling in his hands and feet. David usually just went to sleep. Fuckin' Dorothy Nolan and his poppy fields. "The design? Ya said ya found it!"

"I did!" Regina said happily, very pleased with herself. Pointing over at the leader of the band, she smiled broadly. David just frowned as Killian looked closely, and then he saw it. A tattoo. The leader of the band had the design tattooed on his right arm.

They waited in the back room used by the band in between sets. Looking at Regina, Killian frowned as David tried to talk Regina into leaving and heading home. For some reason that Killian couldn't fathom, Regina was determined to stay and meet the band with them. Either way, it didn't affect him too much. He just wanted to get this over, get out of the club, stop by home for some fresh clothes, and go to Emma.

The owner of the club told the band the police wanted to interview them as they were closing up their last set. He refused at first, but Killian found a way to persuade him with just a look. When the man they wanted to talk to arrived, both Killian and David took a good look at him. Seeing Regina's perk up, Killian finally understood why she refused to leave. She wanted to meet him.

"Robin Locksley?" David asked. The man was about the same height as Killian with an athletic build. He had light brown hair, a scruff of a beard, piercings at his eyebrow, and various tattoos. He wore a leather vest without a shirt, unfastened, and tight black leather pants, with a belt that had a large buckle, same design as his tattoo.

"Yeah, that's me. You the cops who wanted to ask me some questions?" The man's gaze glanced over at Regina, and David saw a glimpse of recognition in the man's blue eyes. Great. No doubt one of Regina's many previous encounters. Looking over at his sister, he was worried. He recognized that look in her eyes. She was interested in this man, and looking at him closely, he just didn't look like her type. But as far as Regina was concerned, lately, every man looked like her type.

"I'm Nolan, and this is my partner, Jones," David offered, purposely neglecting to introduce Regina. However, Regina wouldn't have any of that.

"And I'm his sister, Regina,” Regina grabbed the man's hand and shook it lightly, smiling at him. David and Killian were surprised to see the man gently remove his hand from her and smile.

He just nodded at her in friendly way, and asked her if she wouldn't mind talking to his band member Tuck across the room about getting him a cold drink, since he didn't have much time before he needed to be back on stage. Both men were surprised by the charismatic charm of Robin Locksley.

After Regina had wandered off, he turned to them and sighed. "I know about your sister. She comes here. A lot. For over six months she's been trying to get invited into the back room with the band, but I put the word out that she is non-admittance.”

David was curious, putting his hands on his hips, he turned more toward Locksley as he scrutinized him. "Why?" What the hell was wrong with his sister that this man and his band wanted nothing to do with her.

"Mate, she is the walking wounded. My band, we party, sometimes a little too much, but nothing harsh. No hard drugs, usually just drink and a little smoke. This bird, she is like, _hardcore_. But not in the lifestyle way... more like she's drowning, she doesn't belong to this life." Robin reached over to a table, took a cigarette from a pack, and lit up. "We don't tangle with the abused. She looks like she can take care of beating herself up on her own, and I don't want my band members to help. We stick to chicks that make the choice with lots of free will."

Both Killian and David were surprised at the honesty and insight Robin had, appreciating the gesture, but they still had to question him. "We wanted to ask you about your tattoo and need you to account for some time late on both Monday and Wednesday."

Robin looked at the two out of place detectives. Regina’s brother was soft spoken, casually dressed, and not threatening in any way. However, the other man was different. He looked...  mean. Robin took another puff from his smoke and leaned back against the table crossing his legs at the ankle. Intimidation only works if you let it. It is all about the person giving up control. "You arresting me, Detectives?”

David sighed, recognizing the look in the man's eyes. He wasn't going to be helpful. "No, we just need some answers." Robin didn't blink or even break his expression. He just took another draw on his cigarette.

Killian looked at his watch and swore, losing all patience. Moving around David, he grabbed the cigarette from Robin's hand and crushed it on the floor with his shoe heel. Leaning into Robin, right into his face, Killian smiled a smile that had even David backing up and swearing. Killian was impressed; Robin didn't even blink.

"Mr. Locksley, you've got a choice to make. Either you answer questions here and now, or I run you in as a material witness, lock you up overnight with many new potential girlfriends, and question you at my leisure... the choice is yours."

Robin stood his ground, unwilling to let this detective intimidate him, no matter how nervous his stomach was feeling. "Well, Detective, I've never looked a potential… date in the mouth, and if you're going to be the one to book me, I might find that... exciting." Robin pointedly looked down Killian's body, making himself appear interested and hoping that, one, Detective Jones wasn't gay, and two, that he didn't beat the shit out of him for making a pass.

Killian growled under his breath and started to ball his fist, when David intervened. "Mr. Locksley... Robin. We aren't trying to hassle you. We just have a murder case, and that tattoo was found on the victim’s body. If you've had nothing to do with it, we would appreciate some information. We've been looking for that design and my sister saw your tattoo and called me."

David knew Killian was unhappy with him getting overly chatty with their suspect. However, he also knew this man wasn't going to yield, and that meant Killian and he could come to blows. Killian in anger management classes had been a pain, but Killian on suspension for beating up a potential suspect would be intolerable. Last time Killian was suspended, he spent the entire time loafing on David's couch, and bitching to anyone within earshot.

"Sure, Detective, I gotcha." Regina had returned and Robin took the beer she’d brought him with a gentle smile. David noticed the way he avoided her eyes. "Monday. Late? Past midnight? Let's see... we play here most every Thursday thru Sunday nights. Sometimes we book elsewhere or privates, but mostly here. Therefore, Monday is like my lazy day. I usually spend it hung. So no, I would've been alone Monday night. Wednesday, I think we had a private gig at a Frat house, but that might have been Tuesday. I'll have to check my schedule. But if it was Wednesday then we played until two A.M. and then I bedded a co-ed that wouldn't stop talking named... Lena, I think?"

"And if it was Tuesday?" David asked, not liking Regina's frown about Robin's sexual activities.

"Well, if it was Tuesday, then still the same, different girl. I fucked her until about 6 A.M. then rolled over to sleep, spent the rest of the day hung and wondering how the hell I was going to get her out of my crib." Robin tossed back the rest of his beer and motioned Freddie to bring him another one. "Then I would've been alone Wednesday night as well.”

“I’m gonna need a name,” David said as he made a note to get Robin's schedule so they could clear him for at least one night, and check out his story with the... talkative Lena, and the other, as yet to be named girl. "And the tattoo?" he asked.  

Robin looked down at the design. "Really can't help you much there. I've had the tattoo for years. My parents are world travelers. My dad was a CEO of a large corporation. Computers. When I was sixteen we traveled to the British Isles. I saw this carving in the Scottish Highlands and later Ireland, and asked a local. He said it could be found all over the British Isles. It was the symbol of a legendary Celtic princess from way back before time was time, her name was Eala Dhiaga, Anyway, I liked the symbol, copied it, had a buckle made of it, and when my parents weren't watching, had myself tattooed. It's unique."

"Do you know why the symbol is significant?" David asked writing down the information.

"No, not really. I was just told that this person was the basis of some of the Arthurian legends, like the Lady of the Lake, and that she was a warrior princess-slash-sorceress that was fabled to fight so strongly in battle, that no weapon forged by man could kill her. And there was another, stranger story about her lover, a soldier of Gaul, and how she protected him in her spell, so that he too was invulnerable and stronger than ordinary men." Robin stopped to take his drink. "Really, it was an interesting tale, but at sixteen? I was more concerned about how cool the design was, and if chicks would like it..." Robin looked discreetly over at Killian and smirked, deciding to push the envelope a little. "Chicks and studs. What do you think..." Robin lowered his voice a little huskily and looked appealingly at Killian. "Is it sexy? Does it get you hot?"

Robin backed off a little as Killian growled and started for him, David stepping in his path. "Peace, Detective...I'm a lover, not a fighter...if you're interested." Moving away from them before the detective killed him, ignoring the frowning Regina, Robin headed back to work. "So, if you need any more answers, here I am, and next time? It'll require a warrant or... a kiss from the big guy." Nodding his head to the good cop, Robin hurried to leave the room before he was throttled by the bad cop.

On their way out the door, Regina decided to ride home with them. She was having difficulty expressing how disappointed she was that Robin was gay, and that he was hitting on Killian. _Killian! For god sakes, what was the world coming to? Killian was a walking advertisement for rutting heterosexual sex!_ _Didn't gay men have some kind of radar or something?_

"I can't believe he's gay!" she lamented from the backseat.

Killian rolled his eyes. "He's not. He was purposely putting me out, to keep control, the wanker! I should've broken his nose for him, or thrown him in holding. We'd see how smart his mouth was after a night with some Johnnies." Killian was still pissed Mr. Guyliner was unshakeable. The sexual come-ons didn't bother him as much as realizing what Robin was doing. Killian had little to no problem with his own sexuality, and especially over the last few days, even less than usual. Robin used a ploy to remove intimidation, and answer the questions only as much as he wanted. They were going to check up on the little prick, and if his story didn't hold, they were going to drag his worthless carcass in for more questioning.

"Damn," Regina said under her breath in the back of the seat. For the past few months, she had tried to get close to the leader of the band. He interested her from afar. Rumors from the girls in the club had her intrigued. Tonight, she actually believed he was gay, that he was hitting on Killian. It was so easy to believe because he avoided her like the plague. Men didn't avoid Regina Nolan, but this one did. It was easier to believe he played for the other team, than to think that he didn't want to know her. "Damn," she said again.

Regina was so deep in thought she didn't notice they were at Killian's until he got out of the car and opened her door so she could move to the front. "Not sleeping at the new girlfriend's house, Killian?" Regina asked with a smirk, wanting to see Killian bristle at the word "girlfriend".

"None of your business, Regina, but yeah, I am. Just stopping for some fresh clothes and my overnight stuff." Killian noticed Regina's unhappy frown. It wasn't that she didn't want him and David to find people that made them happy, but seeing them involved with people reminded her how meaningless her life was... how meaningless all the sex was.

"So you... like this woman? I mean really like her?" she asked, cautiously.

Killian just shut the door and leaned in to talk to David. "Pick me up at Emma's at ten, okay?"

David nodded and pulled away, not bothering to wait to see if Killian answered Regina's question. Killian's silence said it all.

~*~

Emma ended up working later than she planned. It was eight thirty by the time she left the museum with Mary Margaret. August had stopped by earlier informing her he had some leads to chase down, and then a late date, and the he asked if Mary Margaret could make sure Emma made it home safe.

Mary Margaret smiled at the snort Emma gave at being babysat by the Storybrooke P.D., but she was trying to be cooperative since she’d promised Killian she would stay safe and keep out of trouble. Emma noticed Mary Margaret's whole body stiffening at the news that August had a date, and couldn't help but wonder what was going on. She could've sworn that Mary Margaret was attracted to David Nolan, but here she was acting jealous over August. It didn't make sense.

When they made it to Emma's place, she tried to talk Mary Margaret into taking off and going home, but the dedicated law enforcement officer refused. She didn't want to leave Emma alone, even with a security system on, until someone, meaning Killian, showed up. So finally giving up, Emma decided to shower and change. When she came back downstairs, she overheard Mary Margaret on her phone.

"No, I won't be that late. I'm just staying until someone else shows up." Mary Margaret paused and listened to the voice on the other end. "No, I promise. If something changes and I should stay the night, I'll call. I promise. Okay." Mary Margaret hung up the phone and stood there just staring at it for a few moments.

"Your husband?" Emma asked, startling Mary Margaret out of her thoughts.

"No. I'm not married,” Mary Margaret replied, a little flustered and shy.

"Oh. Lover?" Emma probed with grin.

Mary Margaret smiled at that. "No. Believe it or not, parents. More specifically, Dad."

"No! Not you, too!" Emma smiled coming down the remaining stairs. "Oh god! You have to meet my mom. She is quite the character. And protective? It's like being one of those baby seals that hunters bash their heads in… my mom throws herself in front of me, just like she is one of the environmentalists trying to save a seal! It's terrifying at times. Thank god she's not here!"

"Well, I bet you don't live with your mom?"

Emma's curiosity was piqued. Going into the kitchen she began to take out all ingredients she needed to fix dinner. Pushing over all the vegetables towards Mary Margaret for her to assist, Emma started on her pastry dough. She was making a baked salmon pie to go with the veggies. Checking her refrigerator quickly, she was glad to see she still had a few bottles of wine. Taking out a bottle of Zinfandel, she poured herself and Mary Margaret a glass. "So, what's the story?"

Mary Margaret took a sip of the wine, surprised at the robust flavor. “Not really that interesting," Mary Margaret said with a sad smile, rolling her eyes. As if her life was in any way interesting, but Emma didn't shrug it off. She kept her interest on Mary Margaret and patiently waited. Mary Margaret frowned, watching Emma cook. She always wanted to learn to cook things other than the basics, but never had the opportunity.

"It's nothing really. I mean, I did leave home to go to college, but my Dad didn't do too well. So, when this job came open, I took it. And I've been living at home ever since, about four years now." Mary Margaret took another drink, liking how it left her insides warm.

"Mary Margaret Blanchard! That story was a disgrace! You can't just outline a life like it was barely lived. Everyone has a tale to tell. But to make it easier for you, I will do a quid pro quo with you. For telling me a story about you, I will spill a delicious one about me." Mary Margaret laughed at the idea, like there could ever be a story she could tell to compare with this colorful creature and her life.

"Killian Jones?" Mary Margaret laughed when suddenly Emma tossed back her head and laughed too, shaking her head no.

"Sorry, but no. He's off limits."

"Okay." Mary Margaret took another drink, and then started chopping veggies. She loved how Emma's kitchen had a small sink in the island bar allowing her to wash the vegetables and giving her plenty of room to work. "My mom died when I was ten."

Emma stopped working for a moment to stare at Mary Margaret in amazement. Died? Did she really want to hear this story?

Mary Margaret was too busy talking, chopping, and peeling, to see the look of compassion on Emma's face. "My mom was beautiful, and full of life, and energetic, she taught me right from wrong, and did her best to instill in me to be gracious to all, and to have hope.”

"What happened?" Mary Margaret looked up at Emma's quiet question.

"One day,” Mary Margaret laughed bitterly as she continued, “on my 10th birthday, she became ill, really ill, and by the end of the day, she was gone." Mary Margaret took another drink. "Dad mooched around for about a year and then he went in search of a new wife, literally.  We would travel around with his job and he’d go on all these dates. I think he thought he needed to find me a new mother."

Emma groaned under her breath, already sort of knowing how this was going to end. "Eventually he found someone who he thought could make us both happy and married her. I was so happy at first, not to have someone replace my mother, because that could never happen, but because he was happy. My dad is my world, and all I’ve ever wanted is for him to be happy. "

"So what happened next?” Emma took the salmon from the refrigerator and started seasoning it while the pastry rested.

"My ex-stepmother was the antithesis of my mom. She was cruel and selfish, she thought she was far superior to everyone else, and she practically bled my father dry. She never cared about him, she didn’t care for us, and he was too blind to see it. Too much in need to replace my mother."

"Damn." Emma took a drink of her wine staring at her companion.

"I had to get out of there. Life at home was unbearable. There’s only so much a person can take, ya know?"

Emma nodded in agreement, she understood unbearable.

Mary Margaret looked at Emma with sad eyes. "My first year in college my dad had a heart attack. He survived, but the She-Devil refused to look after him, refused to be weighed down by a sick man and she left.” Mary Margaret shrugged. "I had to come home, to be there for my dad, to help him get better. He could have died and that scared me, to think I could have been left with no one. So now, it’s just us again, and sometimes I feel the years he was married to her were wasted. I lost my hope when my mom died, and I’m still struggling to find it again.”

Emma listened quietly, not wanting to disturb Mary Margaret. It seemed she needed to get it out, as if Emma was the first person she ever talked to about it, and this was her chance to finally come to terms with the direction her life had taken.

"Anyway, that's how it started."

"How what started?"

"Oh, the perfection of Mary Margaret Blanchard." Mary Margaret finished her glass of wine and smiled when Emma poured her more. "I wanted, needed to make my father proud, to make him happy, to try and give him back the things we had lost. I needed to be better, to be brilliant, be perfect, the perfect child, to make up for that woman deserting him.”

"Were you perfect?" Emma could easily imagine how stifling to personal growth that could be. She’d lived through years of rejection, being aware from a young age she’d been tossed away, like garbage. And ended up in the hands of an evil predator who had scarred her more than anyone could image.

"Sure, of course I was. I never spoke out of turn, always did my homework, passed the classes, obeyed my dad, dated only "good" boys, and I… I never lived."

Emma frowned, watching Mary Margaret polish off another glass of wine and reach for the bottle. “What do you mean?”

Mary Margaret finished with the sides and passed them to Emma. "It’s almost as if I’m a shadow of myself. I know there’s life out there to be had, I hope there’s someone who I can fall in love with, but it’s like I’m merely existing in this life, not living it, making sure others are happy and not thinking if I’m happy.”  

Emma frowned at the look in Mary Margaret's eyes. She was scaring her, making her wish for something, anything she could say, to bring life to those dull, green eyes.

Mary Margaret laughed. "You're so alive! I envy that. And when I'm around you, it’s almost like I get some of your life-force. Get a taste of how it could be. " Emma didn't know what to say, so she just listened. "You’re like a drug, Emma, and I find I want more and more. Do you know it’s been years since I had sex?”

“Whoa,” Emma stopped her, a hand held up, palm out. “You’re an attractive woman and all, but I don’t lean that way.”

Mary Margaret blinked at her once, then twice, before she laughed. Loudly. A real belly laugh. Emma smiled as Mary Margaret grabbed her side, doubling over as she continued to giggle.

“I’m not coming on to you, Emma,” she finally got out. “I mean, sure you’ve got the looks, the hair, the confidence, and your ass should be molded and sold as the perfect specimen, but I’m not gay.”

"Okay, Blanchard,” Emma said in an upbeat way, “that was a story, among stories, and too depressing to take on an empty stomach and a bottle of wine. This calls for the big guns." She’d wanted a story, but not this one. It was too sad... too much. This young woman avoided life and lived it scurrying from one place to another, and something needed to give. "Name your poison. What is your favorite ice cream flavor?" Emma scrambled to find something to turn thing away from the depressing story of Mary Margaret's life.

"Vanilla," Mary Margaret said, downing the last of her wine feeling warm inside, and... alive. Emma. It was all because of Emma. Mary Margaret never wanted to go home again.

"Vanilla? Damn! You're right! You haven’t lived." Emma went to find the French style Vanilla Bean ice cream she bought over a week ago for frozen cappuccino treats. Hoping August hadn't wolfed it down, she was glad to see it was still there. "Well, time to shake up your world. I'm covering yours in hot fudge."

Emma grabbed the ice cream, a jar of hot fudge, and pouring some of the topping in a bowl, she microwaved it. Then getting out spoons and chopped nuts, she took the stuff around the bar and sat on a stool next to Mary Margaret handing her a spoon. Mary Margaret watched as Emma opened the ice cream, turned the hot fudge over the top of it, tossed in the nuts, and got up to get some whipped cream out of the refrigerator. "I was saving this for Killian, but I can wait until later."

"He likes whipped cream?" Mary Margaret asked taking the spoon and following Emma's lead, digging in.

Emma looked at her and smiled. "No clue, but I do!"

Mary Margaret was confused for just a few seconds, then blushed, embarrassed at the thought of what exactly Emma meant about saving it for Killian. Not to eat, stupid! At least not for Killian to eat. "God, you make me feel better!" Mary Margaret smiled at how wacky and free Emma was, how uninhibited. "I wish you had been my friend all those years ago. Maybe I would have stepped out from the shadows.”

"I'm glad you feel better.” Emma ate another bite slowly, licking the sweetness off her spoon. Smiling at Mary Margaret with mischief in her eyes she said, "So, my turn. Did I ever tell you about the time I was arrested in a house of ill repute in New Orleans...?”

~*~

Killian called Emma before he left his place to let her know he was on his way. Emma had finished the salmon and had it in the oven baking. Looking at Mary Margaret, she decided the girl had had too much wine to drive home, so she called a cab.

When Killian pulled his car into a parking space in front of Emma's condo, she was just putting Mary Margaret into the taxi and waving goodbye. The look on her face when she saw his car was priceless.

"Oh my god! Don't even tell me this is your car!" Emma moved around the offensive, noisy, broken down car he had driven up in and parked in front of her place. Killian looked at her disheartened. The car was the one his brother Liam had bought when he was sixteen, and the two of them had numerous adventures in it. In all these years, he’d never had the heart to trade it in or replace it. As long as he could, he planned to keep it. He loved that car.

"Guilty."

"Oh god! I can't believe I ever had sex with you! Look at this... this... horror! How could you? How could you?" Emma was sputtering and almost pale in anger, and she punctuated her last word with a hit to his arm in disgust.

"How could I what?" _What the hell was her problem_? What if the car needed some work, it still ran. Sure, she had a classic Pontiac GTO convertible restored to mint condition, but his car wasn't dog meat exactly. It wasn't as if he was out picking up prepubescent girls in it, wearing polyester and too many golden chains around his neck, like some sleazy used car salesman.

Emma's voice lowered to a mere whisper, almost in reverence, as her beautiful, long, thin hand stroked the front fender. Killian could almost feel her touch on his own skin, knowing the way she was touching his car was the way she touched him. "It's a classic. A 1967 Shelby GT500 Mustang."

"I know what I drive, Swan." Killian was confused, it was his car, so of course he knew what the bloody hell it was!

"There were only about two thousand made. You can't buy these cars, because people don't sell them. And if you find one, it could cost anywhere from $50,000 to a cool million." Emma turned to him putting her body between him and his car, almost in protection. "And you drive it around in this state! She sounds sick, and tired!" She was speaking to him as though his car care maintenance, or lack thereof, made him a barbarian.

"You think these are rare cars?" he asked. When Emma nodded soulfully, he continued, "Well try repairing them! The parts are near impossible to find, and when you find them, they cost the earth. It was my brother's hope to restore it. It was a car he’d always dreamed of owning, and it was going for a song, but it was in piss-poor condition. We did some basic work on it, managed to get it running, but before we could get to the major part of the restoration… he died. I wouldn't run it into the ground or part with it for the world." Killian's voice rose slightly, stressing his point. He’d never spoken to her about his brother, but her ragging on his ride, it pissed him off.

Emma somehow felt better hearing the tone of his voice, and the feeling in his words. Just as long as he wasn't neglecting it on purpose, she could handle him driving the poor thing around.  It also didn’t escape her notice he’d just mentioned a dead brother. Knowing now wasn’t the right time to press that part of the conversation, she simply stated, "Help me put it away in my garage."

"I need it tomorrow," he grumbled, feeling like a stubborn kid refusing to let someone else play with his toys.

Emma turned to him with a horrified look on her face. "You're not driving it! Not in this condition."

"Emma, I need my car. I'm tired of bumming rides from David." He was a little put out by her demand, obviously she wasn’t aware of his current driving ban and he wasn’t about to tell her It was a principle thing.

"Fine, take mine." Emma turned to open the garage doors next to her own. They opened into a huge, fully equipped garage with every tool needed to fix a car. Killian was stunned. It was a full-service auto shop.

"The GTO?" Killian asked hopefully, instantly trying to work out how he could drive her magnificent machine, and keep his license and job.

Emma just snorted her disbelief at his nerve and calmly pointed to the Bug.

"No way! No bloody way, Swan! I'm not driving that around. I'll go buy a new car first."

Emma sighed. Geez, what a big baby! "Fine, take the bike, but you better treat it nice."

"Bike? What bike?"

Emma calmly pointed over to the corner and a covered lump.

Pulling back the drop cloth, Killian gave a low whistle. _Damn, what a woman!_ She had a Harley. "Shit!”

Emma watched in amusement as he ran his hands over it, murmuring to himself. August had the same reaction. Emma couldn't figure it out. It was just a bike.

"Yeah, whatever. You can use it if you want. I was thinking about getting rid of it anyway. August loves it, but he refuses to ever ride it, so..."

Killian looked at her and frowned as she pointedly studied his car before getting into it and slowly backing it into the garage. Exiting the car, Emma closed the overhead door behind her. "Why buy it if you don't want it?" Killian asked, following her from the large repair garage to her own personal one that housed the GTO, and then into her condo.

"I didn't buy it. I inherited it in recompense for some shit I went through." Emma went into the house and Killian followed silently. _Recompense?_ He puzzled over this as he followed her. _After some shit she’d gone through?_ Bloody _fucking_ Hell! This bike must have been Cassidy’s. The fucker had done unspeakable things to her, and now she had this to look at everyday, to remind her. Small wonder August didn't want it. Suddenly Killian didn't know what to say or do. The entire day, Emma's story haunted him, made him... he didn't even know what. There weren't words to describe the feelings he had in his stomach, the hollow echo of deep despair, anger, and sickness. The pictures of her bleeding to death were still fresh in his memory, and now he was lost for words. _How could she survive, go on, forget_?

Emma turned to look at him, confused by his silence. _What the hell?_ Looking at him, at his face, dark and quiet, shut down, she knew.

Killian knew.

At first she froze, fear stabbing at her as she contemplated the things he’d seen or heard to understand what she was talking about. In that moment she wanted to run, run and hide from him, from that look on his face. Emma was ashamed, despite everything, that he knew something so personal about her. Staring into his eyes, realization struck that he had to be feeling the gravity of the situation more than she was, and she moved to him instead of fleeing. She didn't feel much of anything anymore, or just didn't allow herself to. It hurt too much to think of everything she’d been through with Neal, to think about the person she had lost, as well as the part of herself that was gone forever. The walls she had built to protect herself continued to crumble bit by bit and she was surprised at how many people she’d let in, into her heart. She wasn't quite the tough cookie she thought, and at times, that armor she used to protect herself slipped and she recognized and admitted it.

Tenderly stroking his face with one hand, she curled the other around his neck and brought his mouth down to hers. Emma leaned into him and lifted herself upward to claim his lips in a kiss, that went from gentle to explosive in seconds. She was so lost in the taste of him, and the sounds he made in his throat. When she pulled back she rested her head on his chest and listened to his heart beat wildly, as her breath came from her in gasps. "Drive the damn bike, Killian. I've hated it ever since I acquired it, and it just sits there. If you use it, you can give me a reason for keeping the fucking thing."

"Emma... I know..." Emma lifted her head to look at him, then put her fingers over his mouth, stopping him from talking about things she didn't want to discuss, let alone think about for even a moment more.

"The past is just that. The past. There are too many worries for today and tomorrow to worry about that which is long since gone. Don’t spend your life trapped in a past there is no chance of changing. Don't let yourself dwell in a past that can only hold pain, Killian, it’s a mindless place and it will suck your life away." Emma thought about Mary Margaret, and how she felt trapped, needing to be an anchor for her father. Emma knew she would do whatever it took to keep Killian from ever becoming trapped like that.

Emma rested her head to his chest again before continuing. "Please, just use the damn bike while I help you repair your car. Help me put away a part of my past that still haunts me." Killian wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into his body.

"Are you fixing my car?" he asked into her hair.

Emma kissed his chest over his heart before looking at him and laughing. "Nope, you are. I'm just going to assist."

Killian looked at her and understood what she couldn't say. Or maybe what she wouldn't say. She knew... she knew that this car meant something to him. It was about Liam, his brother, someone he had yet to tell her about. Yet she understood.  Somehow, if he could restore it, it would be like finally coming to peace with losing Liam. It was about no longer living in the past, and moving forward to becoming a person who looked confidently to the future. Killian didn't know if he could ever be a man who could let his past go, allow it to stop plaguing him. However, looking into her beautiful, pale green eyes, he wanted to.

Emma smiled and kissed him again, then burrowed her head into his neck. He closed his eyes and just held her, liking the sensation of _them_. Killian laughed when she pulled back after a large sniff.

"Um... Killian? You really smell bad." Emma's delicate nose flared as she sniffed him again. "Like smoke, and-"

"I know. David and I got a lead on the design we showed you. The lead took us to a bar called The Hollow Oak."

Emma looked up at him, her eyes sad remembering the design, but a look of amusement and interest entered chasing away the sadness. "The Hollow Oak? You?!" Emma cracked up, delighted at the thought of Killian at the club, wishing she could've been there. "Oh my god! You reek of cop!"

Killian made a strange face, his eyebrows pulling together as he looked at her with speculation. "What do you know about The Hollow Oak?"

"I go there from time to time."

Killian was shocked. His Professor, his high browed professor, living in her upscale condo with a throwback hippy mentality, frequented The Hollow Oak? "No way!"

"Way! August and I go to dance sometimes. And a few times I met some of my graduate students there." Emma ran her hands up his front, mating her body flush against his and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I do a mean bump and grind, Detective." Emma smiled at the darkening of his eyes, that glint of lust, and passion, she was beginning to recognize all too well. Moving her mouth mere millimeters from his, she breathed huskily into his mouth. "I would love to dance with you..."

Groaning at the feel of her, and wondering about the way she turned things from emotional to physical in the blink of an eye, Killian just smiled wryly. "I don't do that kind of dancing."

Emma laughed softly, momentarily wondering what kind of dancing he did do, before leaving one arm hooked around his neck and suggestively moving her other hand down to stroke the outline of his erection pressed against his jeans. "Oh Detective! That’s just not true! I've seen you in action, up close and personal, and babe, there is nothing wrong with the way you move."

Killian moved her laughing body up against the closed garage door, feeling a combination of amazement at how fast she could affect him and being pissed at his own body for having no control. He smiled at her gasp as he pressed himself into her, rubbing along her body and leaning his head into her shoulder to nip the side of her neck. His fingers gently raked into her hair, played with her silky strands, occasionally tugging it. Deciding dinner could wait, he considered moving somewhere that wouldn’t cause bodily harm, when suddenly she ducked under his arm and away from him, breathing unsteadily, face flushed.

"Oh no, you don't! I cooked dinner, and we're going to eat!"

Killian turned to lean up against the door with his head cocked to one side and one eyebrow up. He moved his hand down his own body suggestively, his tongue poking out at the corner of his mouth, and his lips pulling into a carnal smirk.

"Stop that! Oh, god!" Emma quickly fled to the safety of her kitchen.

Killian chuckled, moving towards the stairs to shower, and enjoying the flustered look she had. It was nice to have her on the receiving end for once.

Later they sat at the dining table very close, their chairs almost on top of the other. Killian watched her intently, everything about her. How she moved her hands when she talked, reaching up to push her hair behind her ear. How she maintained eye contact, her eyes speaking almost louder than her words. The way she reached over to touch his hand, stroke his arm, the way she leaned in for a kiss , or just to touch his face. As she detailed the plans to repair and restore his car he smiled, liking the way she made lists. He told her about the lead they found tonight, and she frowned over the story of the warrior princess, said she may have heard it before, but didn't know for sure. The food was great; the company was better. He spent a good five minutes just watching her mouth, barely hearing a word she said, but just watching her talk and eat.

It was the ringing of his cell phone that brought the world they created, a world of food, talk, contentment, and soft candle glow, to an abrupt end. With just a ring it was gone. Killian didn't even bother to try and swallow his bad language, and a disappointed Emma let his bad attitude charm her. The swift change in his demeanor made her blood run cold as she saw him glance at her, and then away. Standing and dropping her napkin on the table, Emma held her breath as she waited.

"We're on our way." Killian paused to listen to the person on the other end. Emma thought maybe it was David, but was uncertain. "No. I think I had better bring her. She would be alone, and never forgive us. Just give us about ten minutes." Killian turned to look at Emma, knowing she was listening.

"What would I not forgive you?" Emma could feel the cold invading, starting at her fingers, toes, and slowly moving inward.

Killian didn't know how to tell her gently, to ease into it, so he blurted out, "Belle was attacked. She's in surgery."

~*~

 


	7. Eala Dhiaga

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys... you guys are the best, really. One day I fully intend to thank each and every one of you - by replying to your comments. I may need a week to achieve that. 
> 
> Beta'd by the awesome ilovemesomekillianjones, and there is accompanying artwork by @swanemma over on tumblr so go check it out. 
> 
> No chapter warning to go with this chapter, just lots of nakedness.

**Chapter 7: Eala Dhiaga**

When Killian and Emma reached the hospital, they found Dak, David, and Liam waiting for Belle to come out of surgery. The Dean of Medicine and a legal representative were also on hand, the fact Belle was attacked in their hospital brought up a host of legal issues. A pacing Liam was making his displeasure known, if he were a jungle cat, his tail would've been swishing angrily. Emma frowned at her surrogate brother, noting his pallor and the tightness of pain on his face. She suspected he was refusing all pain relief until he knew about Belle.

Dak informed them Belle was rushed into surgery for a knife wound to her back, the doctor’s main concern being the wound was too close to a kidney. Imaging had shown a pocket of blood so investigation was needed to make sure the kidney hadn’t been nicked. Dak frowned at his son, listening to his endless tirade over donating one of his own kidneys, catching the bastard, prosecuting the world at large, and his guilt over being asleep and not with Belle when she was attacked. Pulling Emma into a hug, Dak looked over her head at both Killian and David and motioned them to take Liam away. Killian paused for a second to glance at Emma, deciding she would be safe with the captain, he joined David to take Liam to find coffee and get a statement from him. They would have to question Belle later.

Belle finally came out of surgery with her kidney still functioning and a positive prognosis. The entire group headed for her room, ignoring the protests of the nurses and doctors that she needed to rest. In a different circumstance, Dak would've been appalled at the disregard for the hospital authority, but in truth, he had Emma Swan with him, and she was a bad influence.

Emma's hand went to her mouth when she entered the room, her eyes wide at the sight of Belle in the bed with tubes and leads running from her body in all directions. Belle was... so small and fragile looking! Ready to turn around and push all the men out of the room, to leave her friend alone, Emma turned to stare at Killian, his eyes never wavering. With a sigh, she moved aside to let them enter, but quickly went around the bed to take Belle’s hand.

Liam quickly followed, gently picking up Belle’s other hand and cradling it in his much larger one, and they waited as Belle sluggishly woke up. Her eyes slowly focused on Liam and she smiled. "Oh, I must have died and gone to heaven."

Liam collapsed in the chair next to the bed and lowered his head on her hand. He cried, telling Belle how sorry he was that he was too late, that he wasn't there when she’d needed him. Dak looked at his son and remembered the last time his son cried, when they lost Greyson.

They left the hospital a few hours later, leaving Belle in the watchful hands of the Nemo men and two patrolmen assigned guard duty. Both David and Killian were surprised when Dak cut them loose and told them he would file the report himself. It seemed Belle French had just found herself a few protectors, nothing and nobody was going to get to her without first going through both Dak and Liam.

Emma was silent at Killian’s side. That worried him, Emma wasn’t a quiet person. She was more likely to rant and rave, and it bothered him how silent she was. Leading the way into the condo, he ignored the interrupted meal on the table and directed her upstairs. Her skin was cold and she was shaking slightly. Quickly removing both of their clothes, he wrapped her in a blanket and carried her into the bathroom. Setting her down on the counter, he quickly ran a hot bath in the recessed tub that took up its own corner of the bathroom, then added some bath oil from a glass bottle on the tiled shelf along the wall.

Pushing the blanket off her shoulders, he settled a hand on her hip and half pushed, half steered her into the tub. His heart ached at the listless way she moved, and her blind acceptance of his guidance. Once she was safely standing in the tub, he stepped in behind her, and slowly sat down, his hands on her hips still so she would follow. He moved back against the edge and let her rest on him, enjoying the heat as he slowly smoothed the vanilla-perfumed waters over her skin. He watched her coloring return, pinking from the warmth of the bath, and he let her have her stillness. Emma had drawn away from him, into a place where she hid from the world. When she finally worked out everything in her mind, she would talk to him. He kept her close, running his hands over her body, cupping her cheek in comfort. Until she was ready, he would stay with her, together in silence.

When August finally let himself into the condo just after two a.m. he was surprised that it was dark. Looking up at the loft and the dark room with no noise or movement, and then at the abandoned dinner, he guessed they had an early night. It was the bump of the person behind him, a feminine laugh, and his turning to gesture for his company to be quiet, that made him spy the bottle of wine on the table. Quickly seizing the bottle, he led his guest towards his room, not even bothering with glasses.

About forty-five minutes later, Killian was woken by the touch of a hand on his shoulder. Without thinking about it, he reached for his gun and rolled over with it ready to fire in August Booth's face.

"Whoa! Back off!" August said in a heated whisper with his hand raised.

Killian's eyes cleared from sleep and took in the full package of a large August Booth, naked and very aroused. Killian decided to leave his gun trained on August anyway. "That outfit looks a little drafty there, mate. I sincerely hope that isn't for me, or you're not going to suggest joining us?" Killian waved his gun a little threateningly at August.

"No way! Shit, Jones, put away the piece. I need condoms!"

"Condoms?" Killian heard giggling downstairs and a female voice calling to August to hurry up. Killian finally put the safety on his gun and put it down.

"Yeah, I'm sort of out at an inopportune moment, and the two of you seem... active lately, so... I thought..." August made a gesture that caused Killian to sigh. Rolling back over across Emma's back and leaning over the side of the bed, Killian grabbed the infamous bag of supplies and tossed it to August.

August searched through the bag and whistled at all the supplies, most importantly at the huge box of condoms. "Whoa, jackpot! Man, you two are majorly serious about...."

"Don't make me shoot you, mate," Killian said menacingly.

"Okay, I'm going to take the lubricant..."

"Leave."

August just laughed and put the bag on the bedside table next to Killian. He started down the stairs, chuckling, and paused when Killian's voice came slowly in the dark.

"Gus?"

"Yeah?"

"Next time, wear a towel or something. If I ever see that part of your anatomy again, I'll shoot it off."

August laughed aloud and continued down the stairs. "Understood."

Killian rolled back over to gather Emma under him where she slept all sprawled out on her stomach. Winding his arm around her waist again and resting against her back, Killian attempted to go back to sleep, trying to ignore the sounds of giggling and other things downstairs. Damn, this place was seeing more action than a frat house, and was just as crowded!

~*~

Emma woke up at first light. Her constant early mornings for the last month or so had created a habit. Slowly turning under Killian, trying not to wake him, she was surprised when his arm tightened around her in his sleep. Reaching down to where he held her, she tried to peel him off, but he wasn't having it. Finally giving up, she decided to just rest awhile longer.

Killian smiled to himself when she sighed and settled back to get more sleep. It was time she learned he wasn't going anywhere, and hiding from him wasn’t going to work. She was right. It didn't matter how far or how fast you ran from your problems, sooner or later you ended back where you started. And unfortunately for Emma, that led back to a pissed off Killian, who was tired of being excluded from her innermost thoughts. Killian willfully overlooked the fact that he had only been in this relationship, technically, four days, and had known her only five. Sometimes a lifetime could be lived in a moment.

"It's me, isn't it?"

Her voice startled him. He thought she was asleep. "What’s you?" Killian asked, rubbing his face against her back, listening to the rumbling noise of her voice along her back.

"This. All of this. I'm connected somewhere, somehow. It's me, some connection to me that made Belle a target, killed Marco, and Sean."

Killian pulled back as she turned over. Looking at her serious expression in the early morning light, Killian's face shuttered, closed down, taking on his _Detective_ look, and wanting to keep her free from it.

"I don't know, lass. I just don't know. None of this makes sense. I wish I could tell you it's not you, that it's nothing but a coincidence, but I can't. You know better and so do I. But I can promise to not stop until I find the answers and free you of this." Killian closed his eyes when her hand came up to cup his face, to trail her thumb along his cheekbone, along the scar he’d had for as long as he remembered. He loved the way she touched him.

"Sometimes, Killian, mere men can't stop what goes on among us. Sometimes the forces of evil, they rage too strong. What then, Detective? What then? Marco said that pure evil needs a sacrifice, an innocent. And when it devours the pure it becomes stronger." Emma leaned forward and kissed him, pulling his weight back on her. "I'm far from pure, and I select what evil I want to do..."

Killian smiled at that. "You're are evil, devilish at times, but Emma, I think your spirit is very pure. It has to be, because too many people, too much energy, moves towards you. I feel it..." he paused trying to find words to express what his body and mind already understood, but words failed him. "I feel you, see you. Almost like a flash, I have these rushes of sensation, and they feel like you."

"What do these rushes tell you?" Emma asked curious and almost appalled that she let him in so close.

"Mostly how you feel about me, how much you want me. Occasionally, I feel your sorrow. I feel your tears that you can't cry," he told her. He didn't know if it helped or harmed her more to admit this, because it was something he wouldn't even admit to David, or even himself most the time. Emma Swan had found a way inside him, and even though it had only been a few days, he literally couldn't remember a time when she wasn't there.

"I see you, too," Emma replied, her fingers brushing along his jawline, traversing his scruff. Killian smiled at her unsure voice, almost reluctantly drawn from her. Demons were chasing her, and she was trying to stand strong on her own, to protect those around her. However, if she belonged to him and he to her, then these demons were something they had to share.

"What do you see, love?" he asked, moving in to kiss along her neck and, moving downward, he pushed away the blankets so his eyes could follow his hands. "What do you feel?"

Emma frowned and thought about it. "I feel you almost like a glowing pulse, like a rush of heat across my body, and I just know it’s you."

"Tell me more, darling," Killian teased, almost laughing at her earnest face, the seriousness of her countenance. Somehow, he was expecting a come-on, an erotic suggestion that would send them back into the physical, fucking like bunnies and ignoring the fact August and company were downstairs.

"I know you," Emma continued, moving her own hand over his body, feeling his tremor as she skimmed his skin. "Sometimes I think I know you better than I know myself. Like a flash across the city, I just know you're thinking about me, or want to call, but resist the urge." Emma moved to sit up as Killian shifted back to lie in the bed, his expression unreadable.

He wanted to get up, move away from her, and run away. This was too much. But there was something else in him. Something that recognized what he couldn't admit. That he needed her. He needed this connection. It was as if he had been searching for it all his life. Fear was an immobilizer. It held him to her, kept him close to her, trying to decide whether to take a chance or run.

 _Did he want this? Could he afford this? Could he lose himself in her?_ These questions plagued him. The only thing he knew was he was far from through with her, and she with him.

"I know," Emma whispered as she leaned over him, seeming to understand what was running through his mind. She trapped him between her arms, holding him captive in more ways than just physically. "I think I hate you for entering my life right now. This is too much. I have no time for this. I don't get involved with men, not emotionally. Not since..."

Killian’s eyes narrowed when she turned her head, trying to avoid his piercing eyes. Putting his hand behind her head, he brought her back, her mouth to his, and closing his eyes, drew her inside, deep inside, opening his mind to her, looking for the answers she wouldn't share with him.

Bloody hell. In a rush, he thought he saw her, saw it… the horror of Neal Cassidy.  The torment of a lost girl, making her cry, slicing off pieces of her boyfriend. Piece by piece, dropping chunks of flesh at her feet, laughing at her horror and her pain. No wonder she moved everything back to the physical. Emotionally she needed to protect herself from the pain. Scars. Their scars defined them. That which had not destroyed them, defined them.

"You hate me?” Killian asked, feeling it. But he knew the reason she hated him was because he was proving too hard for her to keep out.

"Yes,” she insisted as her teeth nibbled at his lips.

Killian nodded, and kissed her again. Another thing they shared. "Good. I know you don't want promises, love, and what’s between us bothers you, and it bloody well bothers me, too. But what do you want me to do, walk away?"

"No” she said simply. She moved to straddle his body, to sit over him, moving her hands up his chest to frame his face and slowly kiss him. Pulling away, she watched his mouth following hers, trying to draw her back. "I don't know what this is, but I just know that until it’s over, when all this murder and bedlam we walked into is over, I can't concentrate enough to even sort it out. I just know that I feel you, and for the first time in a long time, I don't feel alone. I don't want to lose that."

"Aye, love. I feel the same." Killian pulled her back into his arms, settling her body fully on top of his. He needed to feel her, to make love to her, to keep her near. It was easy to dislike the weakness she represented in his life, but also, like her, he liked not being alone. Killian didn't even notice that he thought of sex with Emma as making love and not just fucking. He didn’t know when it had changed. It just had.

Killian flipped her so she was under him, relishing the feel of her leg coming up along his side as it wrapped around his waist and held him tight to her. Moving his hand along her thigh, he softly stroked the long length of it, loving how her legs embraced him. Her soft silky skin was something his fingertips knew. Killian didn't know where they were or even where they were going. Maybe it was best not to look too closely right now. Looking at her darkened green eyes and the intensity of her glance, Killian decided it was time to wake up August and his guest with a little noise of their own.

"Maybe it's not the end that matters, Professor. Maybe it's the journey."

Emma smiled, recognizing her own assessment made in the GTO in the middle of the night. "Maybe," she agreed.

"So let’s not worry about the end, and just work on the journey. The rest will work itself out later." Killian reached down, rested his forehead on her breast, and rubbed his head upward kissing her under her chin. "Journey with me, Professor..."

Emma moaned softly, her fingers tightening into his skin. "Always..."

~*~

Emma got up to make coffee while Killian commandeered the bathroom first. He was making complaints about needing to trim his scruff before it grew into a grizzly beard. She agreed wholeheartedly, telling him while she didn’t mind the whisker burn on her skin, especially her inner thighs, she didn’t like the idea of a full bush.

She was assembling all the makings for waffles, and cutting up fresh strawberries, when August's door opened. Emma stood in shock with her mouth open, looking at Ruby Lucas in nothing but August's shirt.

Ruby just smiled at her, slightly embarrassed. "Um... hi. I thought I smelled coffee."

Emma picked up the coffee pot and waved it at Ruby, who’s grin widened as she came over to take a seat at the bar. Emma filled a cup and placed it in front of Ruby. "Gus is still asleep, but I need to get moving to make it to the museum. I left my car... somewhere last night."

Emma, recovering from the sight of Ruby in her home, just shrugged. "That's okay. You can come in with me. We'll leave Gus a note to find your car."

Ruby groaned at the warmth of the coffee moving down her throat. "Thanks. Sorry about the surprise. I don't think I was in any condition to really think about where August and I ended up, and right now I've got the mother of all hangovers."

Emma laughed and pulled out a glass, orange juice, an egg, Tabasco, and other secret ingredients that made up the Swan Hangover Remedy. August came out of his bedroom wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. He reached across Ruby, and took the glass before she could drink it and downed the entire contents. A huge shudder moved over his body as he bent over and coughed. Emma calmly mixed another one for Ruby, and then poured another cup of coffee to _take_ to Killian so she could warn him about their guest.

Stopping in the doorway of the steamy bathroom, Emma drank her coffee and watched him in his grooming regime, using a razor to neaten before running the trimmer through his facial hair. He stood there in the steam in nothing but a towel and Emma struggled to move the air through her lungs just looking at him. He was fucking gorgeous! It didn’t seem fair.

Killian looked up to see her reflection in the mirror. "Is that for me?"

Emma looked down at the extra cup of coffee and nodded. She walked up behind him and placed the coffee on the counter next to him. She rested her head on his back enjoying the smell of his clean body. “Have you ever been clean shaven?” she asked, allowing her lips to skim across his skin as she spoke.

“Occasionally,” he muttered as he worked. He paused, causing Emma to look over his shoulder at him in the mirror. “Do you want me clean shaven?”

“I want you just the way you are,” she purred into his ear, nipping at his lobe when she finished.

“I don’t blame you, love,” he smirked smugly. “After all, I am devilishly handsome.”

“And not a bit conceited,” she laughed before taking a sip of her coffee as she stepped away from him and hopped up onto the counter beside the basin.

“Roguishly handsome?” he questioned with a raised brow.

With her eye’s sparkling, Emma shook her head.

“Ah, a dashing rapscallion perhaps?”

“A scoundrel is more like it,” she finally said. “But it seems I like that about you. Well, I better shower and let you finish making pretty." Killian laughed as she got down, stopping her before she could walk around him. Wrapping his arms around her waist he leaned and kissed her deeply, then slowly drew back to say, "Good morning."

"Good morning to you, too, Detective." Emma kissed him again quickly before walking around him to start her shower. "I think I should warn you that August didn't come home alone last night, and his… guest is still here."

Killian turned to watch her step into the shower and pull the door closed behind her, enjoying the view. "I know. August sort of woke me up last night for... supplies."

Emma's head popped out from the shower door. "Really? Hmm? Did he mention who his guest was?" Emma smiled devilishly when Killian shook his head no.

Killian frowned at her evil smile. What was she not telling him? _Oh, god! Not Blanchard?!_ "Swan? Who is it?" Killian leaned in to listen closely. _No. Not possible, Dave will be crushed!_ "Emma?"

"Ruby!" she exclaimed in a singsong voice. Even with the rush of the shower he could hear the laughter in her tone. "Shit!" Killian just stared at the Emma’s figure showering behind the glass. He’d rather it be Blanchard.

~*~

Emma and Ruby made it to the museum before anyone else, but just barely. Mary Margaret came rushing in five minutes later, soon followed by Tink and others. It wasn’t until late in the morning that the break they were looking for finally came.

"I found something!" Everyone stopped to look over at Tink. She was holding a requisition form, invoice form, and a receipt from shipping.

Emma and the others gathered closer to Tink. Emma took the invoice and frowned at it. These items had never been delivered to the museum. Taking the shipping form next, Emma quickly read the name that signed for the delivery. Professor Marco Geppeti.

~*~

When Killian and David arrived at the museum, the place was a flood of activity. The entire group was scurrying around on the main floor with stacks and stacks of papers, calling numbers and information to each other. David frowned when he saw August Booth in the thick of it, working shoulder to shoulder with both Mary Margaret and Ruby. Surprisingly, both women were laughing at something he said and conversing with each other in a friendly manner. David's eyes narrowed when he noticed Mary Margaret's hands going to August's back to move him forward so she could go around him.

Killian, standing next to his partner, noticed the direction of David's glance and just sighed. Great. Juuuust great. Emma’s super deadly Swan charm must have rubbed off on August Booth through the years, and he now had two ladies roped and was fast working on the rest of the town of Storybrooke. David, who was a noted lady's man, having dated practically every last single female in the Storybrooke P.D., with the surprising exception of the two women with August, was looking at major competition! Killian was glad Emma seemed to have protection against August's lure, but also tended to find it laughable. Bloody hell, things were complicated enough! Did everyone have to go out of their way to get themselves entangled? Of course, Killian didn't apply that to his own life, just to everyone around him. In truth, he just didn't want to know.

Emma looked up and saw _Detective Sexy_ looking at the flurry. Damn, Killian had made time! She had only called him a half hour ago, and there he was, sneering between David, August, Mary Margaret, and Ruby. It was the same look Killian gave poor Mr. Booboo this morning when he found him sleeping in his shoe. The poor cat had proven “inexplicably” attached to Killian, and followed him all around the condo, despite obvious attempts on Killian's part to ignore him. Emma pointed out to Killian earlier this morning that if he was going to slip food to the cat, under the table, and pet him, that this type of unwarranted devotion just sort of happens.

"Professor? What you got?" Killian left his partner scowling at the other side of the room and decided to get on with it.

"I've got an invoice, a shipping receipt, and no items. We're cross checking all the invoices, shipping receipts, and requisition forms now. It's sort of a mess; because anytime a new item or delivery came on the same day, the same person didn’t always receive it. Whoever was present at the time of delivery just signed for it, and put the invoices and materials on my desk.”

Emma paused to pass more invoices over to Tink, who quickly looked up at Killian from her position on the floor with the rest. Smiling at him and his dawning expression, she quickly went back to organizing all the receipts in some sort of fashion. The flood of horror that moved over Killian's face was priceless. He had seen Emma's office. He’d seen both of them, and they were each like a bottomless abyss from which no person or object could ever return!

Emma noticed the twinkling in Tink's eyes and turned to look at Killian. "What?"

" _Your_ office? They just tossed all the paperwork into _your_ office, on _your_ desk?" he clarified. Killian moaned, rubbing his hand over his eyes when she nodded yes. This was going to take forever.

Emma wasn't sure she appreciated his tone of voice in the least. "There is nothing wrong with my office that a little... organization can't fix." Both Tink and Killian looked at her in disbelief.

"I was thinking a global thermonuclear device with a triggering switch. Bloody hell, Professor, we're going to be weeding through these invoices for the better part of the day!" Killian griped.

"I know, but Tink already found one major missing shipment. I don't know if it’s what the intruder took before killing Sean, but I think you should be interested in who requisitioned the collection for the museum, and who signed for it." Emma handed over the small pile of forms to Killian, now all neatly stapled together, with a place on the top for the artifact catalogue numbers. That place was blank.

Killian quickly scanned the papers and noticed the name of Professor Marco Geppeti, who not only requested the collection, but signed for its receipt over almost two months previously. "Professor Geppeti ordered these museum pieces?" he asked.

Emma and Tink both nodded.

"When we set up the museum, members of different departments requested certain collections be added so they could use it as a display for their teachings. Marco's specialty was dead languages and ancient manuscripts, which crossed over with some of the History Department's curriculum. He specifically called and acquired this set of Roman armor from the British Museum in London," Emma explained.

"Okay, and it's what the murderer took?" Killian’s eyes narrowed in question.

"No. I mean... maybe." Emma rolled her eyes when she saw the look of exasperation take over Killian's face. "What I mean is we, or specifically the museum, never received the pieces. Marco had filled out the delivery form to have it routed to his office. Look at the routing number at the bottom of the shipping invoice, it has a 0231, which is the Anthropology Department routing number, and the museum's number is 0202. Also, Marco signed for it personally, so that means he received it when it arrived."

"Okay, so if the collection was never here, then it wasn't what the killer was looking for..."

"Killian, two things. First, Marco had no real connection to the museum work, so all materials should've come here since the museum paid for the collections, and was responsible for their upkeep. Second, if the collection isn't here, then where is it? Maybe the reason the killer tore the place apart was because they couldn't find what they were looking for..."

"Because the professor had it!" he interrupted.

"Bam!" Tink said from the floor with a wide smile. Killian squatted down next to Tink and quickly read the description of the missing collection.

"You’re going to have to help me out here, Professor. What the bloody hell am I reading?" Killian read and reread the description and was still clueless.

Tink took pity on him. "It's a full body armor of a Roman gladiator. Actually, technically, not a gladiator, but an Elite Guard." Killian just looked at her still expressionless, no more enlightened.

Emma reached down and took the forms from Killian. "The Elite Guards were a special class of guards or defenders in the Holy Roman Empire. They were essentially the toughest of the tough. Very bad boys. They were Caesar's personal guards and the strongest campaigners of the Empire."

"Actually, they were more." Tink started to warm on the subject that was more her field than Emma's. "They were believed to hold magical powers, and the earlier Empire Elite Guards were considered godlike in their ability to fight, crush, and defeat their adversaries. They expanded the Roman Empire from Gaul to Egypt. It wasn't until the later Empire that these special guards became Gladiators, as Rome moved to a more sedentary lifestyle, and public arena fighting became the norm."

Killian nodded and looked around to see the sea of people sorting papers into stacks. "What are you doing now?"

"We're separating all the invoices into their respective groupings. All the Early Empire and Late there, Egyptian there, Peruvian-"

"I get it." Killian looked at his partner who had joined them through the explanation. "Okay. I give up. Why?"

"Because, Detective, we're going to put all forms together, look at the request form for every object versus what had been received, what is still yet to arrive, and what is over in the mail center waiting to be delivered. We're looking for any more requests by Marco," Emma paused to look at the busy workers quickly shuffling all the papers. "We should know by the end of today what is missing, what was requested, and what has never arrived."

"So you want me to do what?" Killian asked looking at Emma, smiling when a look came into her eye.

"Oh, Detective..." Emma purred, then noticed both David and Tink listening with interest and decided not to give him a list. Instead, she reached behind him for a book. "I want you to find my missing collection." Emma opened the book that was a collection guide from the British Museum and passed the book to Killian and David. "I think you might be interested in the engraved emblem on the breastplate of the body armor."

Ruby, Mary Margaret, and August had wandered over to the group and looked at the picture over David and Killian's shoulders. "Shit!" Killian swore aloud when he saw his princess warrior's engraving on the armor. It was on all four pieces, the hilt of the sword, the gauntlet, the shield, and on the breastplate of the armor. Eala Dhiaga, the Celtic noble’s symbol was engraved and bold, more than two thousand years after it was first forged.

"Okay, you win, Professor. We'll look for your collection."

Killian quickly broke up his team into different units. Leaving August, Mary Margaret, and Ruby with Emma and the museum crew, Killian and David were going to start searching the professor's life trying to locate the missing armor. "How valuable is this?" he asked.

Emma looked at him. "Priceless. This is a special piece. At first I thought it was mislabeled since it was placed in the British Isles collection and not Roman. However, this armor is special, because they excavated it from a site in the Scottish Highlands in the late 1950's. Tink already e-mailed the director of the British Museum to forward us all the site and armor information. Hopefully they'll do it immediately, and we should have the information sometime tomorrow." Emma looked around the room, and then at Killian. "This museum can't take the loss of this piece, Killian. It isn't ours. Museums own some pieces or collections, but the rest is usually on loan from other museums. This collection is one of those. It belongs to the British Museum. The insurance will cover some of the loss, but our museum would have to cover the rest."

Killian nodded his understanding, and looked at the symbol one more time. "How do we find out more about this... Eala Dhiaga, this legend?"

"I've been thinking about that, remember last night over dinner I told you that the name sounded familiar to me? Well, Tink and I talked about it this morning, and we think Marco knew. We remember that Marco had told us this story before, when, I'm not sure." Emma looked at Tink and indicated for her to continue.

Tink stood up and looked at Killian and David. "I can do a special web search in the history database for both information about the Elite Guards and about your warrior princess. It'll take a little time, but if I set up parameters to include common crossover between the two, maybe we can find your connection.”

David looked at Tink. She was a real nice young woman in her mid-thirties, and a professor. Tink was volunteering a large amount of personal time, on top of what she already gave. "How long will that take? I know you must have classes tomorrow, and students to see. Can you afford all the extra time this will take?" David asked kindly.

Tink smiled at him, a wide smile. _Now, isn't he just the cutest little ol' thing!_ "If I set it up tonight, most of it should run through the national database overnight, and the worldwide one, as well, if we're lucky. The biggest task is seeing how much we get back, how much doesn't apply, and what articles are available in our area. It takes some work, but it's not insurmountable."

"I could help." Everyone looked over at Ruby. "I'm sort of good with computers and stuff, and since most the cataloging is done here..."

Killian’s first instinct was to say no. Keeping Ruby under watchful eyes was his first priority, but she had been helpful. Now that she was distracted with August, it didn't make him so uncomfortable to have her involved with his case. "Ruby, you're with Tink,” he ordered quickly. Ruby hid the huge smile that lit up her face, sneaking a look up at Gus who winked at her. This was something she could do very well.

David looked over at Mary Margaret and decided to bring her into the conversation. "Mary Margaret, how is this site shaping up?"

Mary Margaret jumped slightly at the question. In a group discussion Killian and David seemed to dominate, Ruby was cautious but still chimed in her opinion, Gus just stood watching the group, closely processing the information, but she... she tended to stay in the shadows unless asked a direct question. "Good, all the artifacts are catalogued and once all the shipping receipts, invoices, and request forms are checked, we should know what else is missing. So far, we’ve found five other requests from Professor Geppeti, a replica of Stonehenge, a stone altar, a goblet, the armor, and a few books. The books are in the reference library, the armor is missing, the goblet is present and accounted for, and the stone altar, believe it or not is over there." Mary Margaret pointed to a huge unpacked crate. "It's going to be part of a large display on the Highlands of Scotland. The reproduction of Stonehenge is still waiting for delivery. We haven't found anything else."

David nodded. It looked like this site was almost finished. "How're things at the lab without you?" he asked, wanting to stay close to her for just a little while longer. David was surprised at the charming laugh Mary Margaret gave at his question.

"Chaos! Total chaos! My lab assistant called last night, hysterical, wanting to know when I was coming home!" Mary Margaret felt surprised, and even a little honored by the call. It always seemed as if she were expendable, but her lab assistant, gushing and pleading with her to come back to the lab was... flattering.

Killian watched as David and Mary Margaret chatted. The tinkling laughter coming from her shocked him, it was a sound he never would have associated with her. He took the opportunity to take Emma into her office.

The room was so… _clean,_ he stood in the door for a few seconds in complete awe. It was spotless, utterly, spotless! He could even see her desk and floor. He turned to look at her, his brow raising in question. Had she morphed into Susie Homemaker with a deadly dust buster overnight?

"Mary Margaret,” Emma teased with a smile.

 _Of course!_ Killian acknowledged this kind of cleaning and organization had to be the handywork of someone with Mary Margaret’s organizational skills.

"She came to retrieve all the paperwork, and three hours later she emerged, just as starched and clean as she walked in, with a shelf of paper in one hand, and this is the aftermath."

"Three hours?" Killian asked in disbelief. He would have just set an incinerating charge and walked away. Emma stood next to him admiring the dastardly drive-by cleaning.

"You should've seen Tink's reaction. Good golly, Miss Molly, call the cops, you've been robbed!" Emma mocked her coworker’s overly dramatic assessment of her reincarnated office.

Killian smiled as he listened to Emma, and watched her carefree nature. By his estimation, about half a megaton of filth, books, and papers had disappeared from the office.

"God, Killian, I would fuck you into a new millennium if you'd let me keep Mary Margaret and sic her on my office over at the Anthro Department!"

Killian pulled out his cell phone to make the call. "Do you think three months would be enough?"

Emma laughed at him when he smirked and put his phone away, pulling her into the indescribably clean office. "Tink thinks we should bring Mary Margaret back in here in two weeks and watch her meltdown at the sight of the new piles of mess I'll have created by then!" Emma said, moving up against Killian as he sat on the edge of her now clean desk. "Is there a reason you brought me in here, Detective?"

"What time am I picking you up tonight?" he asked. Emma looked at Killian, confused. She was sure she told him on Sunday nights she had dinner with Tink, followed by a movie.

"I usually leave at seven. You know I'm having dinner with Tink and her boyfriend, Peter, right?"

Killian put his arm around her waist and pulled her between his legs, while his other hand found its way under her hair, sweeping it aside so he could gently suck the skin along her neck. "I know... You told me..." Emma put her hands on his shoulders to brace herself as she moved her head to the side exposing more flesh for his taking. "Is there any reason I can't come along, too?" Killian asked, rubbing his nose in her soft hair, deeply inhaling the scent of vanilla from her shampoo.

Emma froze. She didn't think he would want to do something so... couplish. It never occurred to her he might be willing to do things with her friends, or might want her to meet his. Emma closed her eyes for a moment and rested against him. She knew part of his reason to tag along was to keep an eye on her, but another part of her was starting to panic that he meant it in a boyfriend/girlfriend sort of way. Her world was already racing out of control, and this was just one thing she didn't want to have to analyze right now. Perhaps it was better to just go with it, come what may.

"Do you even realize what you are getting yourself into? It's my turn to pick the movie and restaurant, and Tink is loud and robust in public," Emma warned, trying to give him an out.

"I would despair if she was anything but robust, love," Killian muttered against her skin, rubbing his nose against her, breathing in her smell. "So this Peter? How long have they been together?" Emma's eyes narrowed at him in suspicion.

"Why do you want to know?" Killian just shrugged trying to appear nonchalant about it. "Wait! You're not going to run a background check on him or something are you?"

"What? Me? No!" Killian imitated a face of pure innocence, denying he was going to check into Tink's boyfriend. At least not anymore.

"Hmm..." Emma was still a little suspicious. He just looked a little too innocent.

Killian scrambled to distract her. "So where are we going to dine? And what movie?"

"Oh, well, I think I'll leave that as a surprise, if you're sure you're up for this." Emma couldn't wrap her mind around the idea that Killian was going on a double date with her and her friends.

"Do you not want me to come along because it will be that time of fertility where you plan on avoiding me like the plague, love?" Killian smiled at Emma's laugh.

"Oh yeah, we're definitely getting close to that time frame where my girls would welcome your boys with a parade or something. However, I thought we already agreed that there is no need for me not to avoid you? Did you see me avoiding you this morning?" Emma moved her hands through his hair.

"No, you definitely did not avoid me this morning, either time. So, as long as you're sure?"

Emma kissed him, gently sucking his lip into her mouth before slowly pulling away. "Hell yeah I'm sure, and if you're up to it, _Detective_ ,” she spoke his title seductively, “I'm sure I can find it within myself to go along with wherever the evening leads us."

Killian kissed her, liking the way she nuzzled into him, opening her mouth to give him entrance. The softness of her lips and tongue, the clutching of her hand at his shirtfront, sent his heart pounding in his chest. "I should get back to work," Killian reasoned, but kissed her again, keeping her close. "Find your bloody missing armor..."

"You should," she agreed, but pulled him back for more. Emma felt the greedy heat of his mouth all the way down to her toes. Her heartbeat doubled, and she felt his cock twitch against her. _Oh, God!_ She melted against Killian like superheated plastic, moaning her approval as she realized his tongue was in her mouth, tasting her, taking her. God, he was delicious! It just wasn't fair. Killian moaned deep in his throat. "Emma..."

She felt as though her nerves were on fire and she squirmed against his enticingly muscular body, wanting to get closer. Massaging Killian's tongue with hers, she caressed it, feeling his heart start to slam against his own ribs. Those large, strong hands that Emma had always been fascinated by, that before she even really knew him, she had fallen in lust with, slid down to cup her ass. Killian tried to regain some sanity. "Work..."

Emma whispered into his mouth, "Okay, work." Killian pulled her supple body closer still, and Emma felt the size and hardness of him pressing against her, a deep aching need to be touched and to touch took hold of her. Her knees went weak and her head rested on Killian's shoulder as he supported her with his body where it rested back against the desk. He ran his thumb along the slight cleft of her chin, and using his index finger lifted her head, then slanted his mouth across hers like a man who was starving.

When air became a pressing need, he tore his mouth away, gulping air in raw gasps, then dove back for more heated kisses, which Emma gave eagerly. Oh, god! She loved the way he worked!

She clung to him, kissing him as hungrily as he consumed her. She didn’t notice his hand sliding between them to unbutton her blouse until she felt it slip inside to caress the silky skin of her rib cage. She gasped when he moved to take the weight of her breast in his hand, and finally rubbed his thumb across her aroused, puckered nipple. The groan was deep and loud as she pushed up against him, grinding against his erection while continuing to devour his mouth. His other hand still on her ass, helped guide her roughly against him, mating them, as she groaned and wriggled in his grip, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin caressing hers. Killian held her, squeezed her, needing to feel every fiber of her. His body jerked and he pulled her head up with a gasp when she suddenly bit him. They looked at each other with an intensity bordering on violent need, when a voice from the door pulled them crashing back to reality.

"Killian!"

Emma closed her eyes and hid against Killian's chest, trying to find a way to let calming air into her lungs. Killian wasn't as easy to tame. He growled at David who stood in the door calling his name. Slowly sanity returned, he gave David a small nod and watched his partner walk away.

Looking down at the body plastered to his front, her soft skin and golden, silky hair, his hand left her ass to comfortingly stroke the lines of her back. "There has to be a place somewhere in this godforsaken town where we can be alone, uninterrupted!"

Emma laughed against him and finally pulled away. "Work calls."

Killian smiled at her and nodded, "Aye, work." He stood up and tried to straighten himself, quickly turning his neck to make it crack. Staring intently at her, he studied her lips, red and swollen, admired the fire in her green eyes, and craved her pink tongue as she licked her lips, trying to savor the taste of him. Killian moaned, his thumb resting on the slight dent in her chin, he tipped her head upward and leaned down to softly lick her lips for her. He felt the rush of her breath as she opened to touch the tip of her tongue to his, and the simple act sent his body racing out of control again.

"Bloody Hell! I'm going to work," he grumbled, unsure if he was telling her, or trying to convince himself. He crushed her mouth under his once more, picking up her body as her arms came around his neck tightly. "Oh wow..." He had to stop, but needed just one more kiss before leaving her side. Moving them backwards towards the door, he kept kissing her, pulling away and then going back for more. This wasn't fucking supposed to be happening!

Finally, she pushed him away from her, and when he reached to grab her back, she danced out of his reach.

"Dammit, Emma!"

She put her hand on his chest to hold him at bay, pointing the way out. "Go to work. Find my armor,” she instructed in breathy pants. Killian closed his eyes for a second to get himself under control, then turned to leave. "Oh, and Killian?" He looked back at her, his dazzling blue eyes darkening. "Get Marco's manuscripts out of his office. If he knew the story of Eala Dhiaga, it will be in there."

Killian nodded his understanding, and before she could elude him, snatched her back into his arms. Bending down, he kissed her lightly. "Seven sharp."

Emma smiled as she watched Killian walk away to grab David so the two of them could head out. Tink looked up from where she was working to see Emma leaning against the jamb of her door, watching _Detective Chiseled Chin_ take off with _Pretty Boy_. Taking in the full picture, Tink swore under her breath and quickly went to hook Emma's arm and walk her back into her office.

"Hey sweetie, you might want to do something about the peek show," Tink grinned.

Still dazed, Emma looked at Tink then followed her glance down. "Aw shit!" Emma swore when she saw that her shirt was still unbuttoned and wide open. Looking up from buttoning her blouse Emma stole a look at Tink and they both broke into peals of laughter.

“Coffee! I'll buy. Looks like you could use something."

Emma looked at Tink and smirked. "What I need, you ain't sellin'. It's walking that way, and coming to dinner with us tonight."

"No way! Oh, man, this is so cool!"

It wasn't until lunch that Emma and the crew settled down to rest before breaking up into groups. Tink and Ruby were going to the History Department to set up a web search, and Mary Margaret was going to the mail room to see if she could get copies of all shipping delivery receipts.

Tink looked over at Emma, who was frowning at a piece of lettuce in her sandwich as she delicately removed it from her bread. "Okay, you've been quiet enough," Tink said, making Emma look sharply at her friend. "So what the heck is going on with you and the detective?" Emma started to open her mouth, but Tink stopped her. "No more dancing around the damn subject, Em."

Emma took a bite of her sandwich and thought about Tink’s question. Finally, shrugging, Emma looked at her friend, and told her the truth "I don't know. I really don't know. He's...he's just different. Really different."

"You mean he's..."

"No! I mean everything is where it's supposed to be, perfectly where it’s supposed to be.  And he knows how to fucking use it!" Emma said, her hands flailing in front of her as she gesticulated widely, and laughing at Tink's expression. "No, it's something else. It's like this intense electrical surge, almost like looking into an open reactor core. I can't explain it... but I just feel him all over, almost like inside me."

"Wow, so you’re, like, achieving the big ‘O’..."

Emma just snorted and gathered up her trash. "Oh yeah every time, and then some, it's like the gift that keeps giving, and giving. He's like a fucking _Energizer bunny_."

Tink watched Emma starting to walk away and picking up her stuff, she quickly followed. "Um...Emma, Hon? Does he have a brother or anything? Damn. You know, just in case Peter and me don't fly. Emma? Em? Buddy?"

~*~

David and Killian headed straight for the Anthropology Department to search the offices of Professor Geppeti and confiscate the manuscripts. David kept sneaking glances at his partner, still feeling the heat that had burned between Killian and Emma when he’d walked in on them. That scene, it was burned in his brain. Hot. Nope. It was more, it was nuclear! David didn't know people actually kissed like that, at least not anyone he’d met.

Meg, the secretary, was happy to help them, and she even gave them a cup of coffee that was fortunately not Emma's industrial sludge. They quickly arranged for all the manuscripts on the shelves to be sent to the Storybrooke P.D., and checked the rooms. There was no armor anywhere. That meant they would have to get a warrant to enter the professor's home.

On their way back to the police department David looked over at Killian, while sipping his coffee. "So, what the hell is up with you and Emma?"

"David."

David ignored the warning tone of Killian's voice. "Don't give me that, Killian,” he pushed. “This isn't your usual ‘meet a woman, get horizontal, ignore her, she desperately tries to make you care, you forget her name, and suddenly she hates you and is gone, maybe with your ice trays’ situation."

Killian looked out the window and then at David. "No, mate, this isn't anything like my usual. I don't just get Emma horizontal. Hell, I take her anyway I can get her. This is different. She's different."

"Killian-"

"I just need her, okay?" Killian rushed out, his tone carrying an edge of anger.

David stared at Killian in shock. This was wrong, just wrong. Killian rarely admitted weakness, not to anyone, not even himself. "I don't need anything... but I need her."

"Damn," David sipped his coffee trying to get some control over his nervous stomach. "What the hell are you going to do?"

Killian just shrugged and then casually said, "Tonight I'm going out to dinner and a movie with Emma, Tink, and her boyfriend, Peter.”

David choked on his coffee, spitting it out over his dash, and into his lap. The car swerved under his hand before he could get control again, and the cars behind them honked menacingly, racing by them as David pulled over.

Killian looked bewildered. _The perfect, anal arsed, driving freak Nolan just ruined his ever present perfect driving demeanor_. "What?”

David coughed and cleared his throat. "You? You're going on a double date! You do realize this is a double date, don’t you?"

Killian didn't know if he appreciated that tone of sarcasm. "Yeah, tonight with Emma. What of it?"

"Killian, a double date... that means there're other people there."

Killian just shrugged, _yeah so_ , he thought?

"Killian, that means they'll expect you to participate, socialize, um... talk."

"Jesus, mate, I'm not a social retard. Talk? I can do that," Killian groused, shaking his head at the nerve of David. Sure, he was dysfunctional at times, but he could maintain a conversation. In his younger days, before his brother was killed, he was considered quite the charmer, debonair, and highly skilled in the conversational department, especially if it involved a woman. He admitted his brother’s death, and his subsequent fallout, had changed him, but the skills were still there, just buried deep under the new persona he’d created. He didn’t admit to David he was a little nervous at the whole ‘talking’ thing.

~*~

When Emma and Killian arrived at the diner, Tink and Peter were already there. Killian kept looking around, taking in the cheesy decor, the touristy atmosphere, and the glorious smell of burning cheeseburgers. Heaven, absolute fucking Heaven! Killian was impressed. He was afraid when he picked up Emma, that dinner with her and Tink would mean some upscale restaurant with more forks than courses, leaving you the need to pocket the spare fork because you didn't use it. Instead, Emma had directed them to the tourist section of Storybrooke. When they had entered ‘Granny’s’, Killian was surprised to see normal looking people patronizing the place.

"Thank God, you're here. Peter was about to order the entire menu and then work his way back again." Tink smiled at Killian, seeing his hand on Emma's waist guiding her toward their booth. It was difficult not to gawk at the detective as he slid, almost gracefully, onto the bench seat. Emma started scanning a menu and passed one to Killian as well.

"Killian, this is Tink's boyfriend, Peter Panganiban." Emma smiled at the man who had been dating and living with Tink for the last eight months. Tink had been walking past a construction site and Peter was one of the workers caterwauling at her. She turned and opened her shirt to flash them. Peter left the site to follow her and later returned to work with her name and number. He was only twenty-eight to Tink's thirty-two, but it didn't seem to matter much to them. Peter was a nice man, great body, but not too bright. "Peter, this is Killian Jones.”

The two men shook hands as Killian sized Peter up. He looked normal. His DMV record showed three unpaid parking tickets and one speeding, but otherwise he was clean. Killian didn't feel too bad about checking up on Peter, because he didn't do it. He had David run the check because he swore to Emma _he_ wasn't going to.

"Okay, this place is a greasy spoon emporium, Emma. Why'd ya pick it?" Tink asked, looking around and thinking the woodsy wallpaper was somewhat sweet.

“Are you kidding? This is one of the best diners in Storybrooke, and sometimes a little grease is good for the soul,” Emma explained, reading her menu and pointing to an item for Killian. Peter was reading down a list of all possible items he could consume with little to no problem.  Killian started to feel more relaxed, and began to get into the evening. He could eat.

It wasn't as bad as David made it out to be. Tink was a total hoot, and between her and Emma, the entire dinner was amusing and lively. They argued over football scores, hockey placements, politics, and gossiped over co-workers, telling each other their woes. Killian smirked at how they drew poor Peter into the conversation, both teasing him shamelessly. The subject turned to Emma and Tink's favorite pastime, Gerald Tiny and his deflated member.

"You think he dresses left or right?" Tink asked Emma.

Emma just gave a delicate shudder, not wanting to think about which pant leg Gerald Tiny carried his one-eyed trouser-trout down. Geez, only Tink would want to know! "No clue, but maybe he doesn't have to choose? Maybe it's small enough to just hang in the center," Emma speculated. She’d watched Killian dress a few times and he was definitely a right-handed man. Suddenly a thought occurred to Emma. "I've been meaning to ask... how did you know about the size of Gerald's endowment. Is it written on a wall somewhere?"

 _Damn anthropology people, always with their questions!_ Tink thought _._ Then she decided to change the subject to Killian, ignoring the glint of amusement in Emma's eyes. Looking to her target, she saw a look of amusement in them, he just smiled and said, "To the right."

Tink grilled him about possible siblings, and didn't mother bring home anyone like him, maybe a brother. Killian bristled somewhat at the mention of brothers, but refused to let his history ruin this night. Emma whispered in his ear, telling him why Tink was asking about brothers, and it almost made him lose his beer all over the place. Tink's heart-shaped face crushed when he informed her that sadly, his brother had passed away some years back and now he was one of a kind, a classic.

Emma shifted in her seat a little, knowing Killian wasn’t the best at sharing his heartbreaking past with anyone.

Peter seemed to like talking about his bowling tournament and friends, but Killian had to confess to preferring darts to bowling. The two men ate their body weight in food and Killian adored the way Emma ate off his plate, stealing an onion ring occasionally as she talked with her hands. What he enjoyed most was the way her hand kept returning to rest on his thigh, stroking the length of it.

Emma decided on the movie. She picked a local movie theater within walking distance of Granny’s that was showing a B-quality, low class sci-fi thriller with invading aliens. Killian kept Emma close under his arm.

"Why this movie? You a connoisseur of bad sci-fi or something?" Killian asked as they strolled along in the cooling evening, Emma close under his arm.

"No,” Emma laughed. “However, it's Sunday night. Last show of the night. So not only will the place be dark and comfortable, but more than likely empty."

Killian looked sharply at her. “What, you don't like people watching you watch a movie?"

Emma stopped for a second and pulled him into a long sucking kiss. "Detective, I've got no intention of watching the movie."

She pulled away from him and grabbed his hand to catch up with the others. Killian, with a delighted smile on his face, allowed himself to be led by her. He couldn't describe it. He was feeling things he hadn’t felt in a long time. He felt young, alive, and almost lighthearted! Crazy. A little over two years ago, he was living on the streets, praying for death.

They stopped for buttered popcorn and drinks and Killian watched as Emma asked for extra butter, and two boxes of milk duds. When they walked into the theater, Emma looked up at the top row of seats and pulled Killian with her as she ascended. Tink and Peter stayed down, explaining Peter had forgotten his glasses, so they needed to be closer to the screen.

Emma set them up in their seats, lifting the arm rests out of the way and, with their jackets balled up as a pillow, she lay down on her side motioning for him to slide in front of her. Killian scanned the area quickly, noting she had been right. There was barely anyone there but them. She grabbed the boxes of milk duds and poured them into the bucket of buttered popcorn, letting Killian place their drinks on the floor in front of them as he settled across the seats. Killian was extremely comfortable lying on his side with Emma spooned up to his back, her arm wrapping around his waist, to reach for popcorn and milk duds. He smiled at the way her chin rested on his shoulder and the way she moved her head to nuzzle into his neck.

When the lights went down and the movie started, Emma slid her hand down his body, touching him, moving her hand over the bulge in front of his jeans and stroking him. Killian's breath faltered in his throat when her mouth found the back of his neck and sucked on the skin. He closed his eyes and leaned back into her, enjoying the sensation of her hands and mouth on his body.

It was the movement of her hand dipping under the waistband of his jeans, grasping his throbbing erection, and stroking him slowly, that had Killian unbuttoning his jeans to give her more room. She heard him moan, the sound muffled as he tried to stifle the sounds.

“Good," Emma whispered in his ear, pulling the lobe into her mouth. "So good. Let me hear you." She wanted him to let her hear, so there would be no doubt at all how her touch affected him, no doubt that she knew what he wanted, and how he wanted her to touch him. Emma should've worried about how much she wanted to touch him publicly and privately all the time, but she was distracted; sort of busy.

She felt a certain degree of satisfaction and lust flare through her body when Killian looked down his body, watching how Emma palmed him in her hand. He was unable to stop himself from rutting into her hand. He swiftly rolled over onto his back, yanking Emma on top of him with her legs straddling his thigh. He knew in the dark that no one could see them, they would be nothing more than a shadow looming in the dark. He could see her face clearly, could see those beautiful eyes wide with surprise and an equal amount of desire and passion.

However, if Killian was going to stifle his moans or try to swallow them, Emma preferred it would be into her own mouth. She kissed him, rough and demanding, thrusting her tongue between those incredible lips to drink deeply and pull him inside. Killian responded in kind, his whole body arching up in need, as he met Emma's kiss with a desperation of his own. And this time when Killian moaned, it vibrated through her whole body, setting her on fire.

Emma removed her hand from him, and at his protest, she hushed him with her mouth. She was wearing a tight shirt with nothing underneath, making it easy to bare herself. She watched him staring at her as she unbuttoned his shirt so she could join her skin to his. Skin against skin, her hand moved back down his body to take his cock back in hand, feeling its silky skin sliding wonderfully against her palm. She thrust against his thigh, loving the stimulation, drinking in another desperate moan. Killian's arms were around her, clutching her hips, pressing her into his firm muscles. Emma arched against that delicious pressure, and then thrust down again, groaning herself as his hardened nipples brushed against her sensitive skin and breasts. She kissed him possessively, hungrily, devouring his mouth and all he had to give.

"Emma..." he stammered out.

"Shush, watch the movie."

Killian laughed at that. There was a movie? "You're going to get me arrested, aren't you, love?" Killian asked, suddenly suspicious that all those arrests in her past mightn’t be just her mother's doing. The arrest at the house of ‘ill repute’ was still holding him fascinated.

"Big baby! Dak will bail us out," Emma said with a laugh, loving the look of him under her, all laid out.

Emma knew both of their lips would be kiss-swollen by the end of the movie but with Killian looking so sexy and wanton, writhing beneath her, skin flushed with passion, eyes glazed with hunger, she didn’t care. He no longer attempted to stifle his gasps and moans of pleasure, too far beyond thought to worry about anything else, let alone other moviegoers.

Emma became quieter as she watched. She slowly stroked his body, touching him delicately with just the pads of her fingers running over his chest. She teasingly circled his taut nipple then reached over to touch her tongue to it before pulling it in her mouth. Killian relinquished all control, content to let her work his body however she saw fit. She had touched him often enough, but this time was different. He couldn't explain it. It wasn't just about sex. It felt like reverence or veneration. He knew he had a great body but no one had ever worshipped his body like this, with this intensity. His breath caught in his throat at the passion of her glance, the darkness of her eyes, and he knew she was feeling him, all of him, just like he was feeling all of her.

When her mouth moved down his body and she tentatively touched her tongue to his cock, he froze. His heart stopped in his chest, and then just as quickly took off racing a hundred miles an hour. The blood in his very veins boiled as his narrowed eyes watched her mouth move over him, taking him inside. The heat was almost too much for Killian, for a few seconds he forgot to breathe, and when he did, it came from him in panting gasps. Maybe he didn't know where they were going with this, but watching her work his body, he just didn't care, as long as it lasted a long time.

Emma savored the taste of him on her tongue, the silky pull of his skin along her taste buds. He was like an explosion of flavor; saltiness with a tinge of bitterness. Taking a deep breath, she pulled even more of him inside, but he was more than just a mouthful, so her hand continued to work him, loving the feel of his body tightening up closer to her mouth. His hands moved down her back, gliding over her skin and then upward again as he buried them in her hair, holding her head still while he moved his hips to thrust into her. He was surprisingly gentle and she liked the way he whispered her name on the outward push of breath from his body.

It was easier to take him if she just closed her eyes and relaxed, letting herself just feel him, enjoy the feel of blood rushing under his skin beneath her tongue. At the first sputtering of his release she held it in her mouth, letting it move around her tongue to really taste him, then relaxing her throat, she pulled him in even deeper as the full flood was forced from him, his hands tightening in her hair as he groaned her name.

Even after he was spent, she still held him in her mouth. Moving her hands up his body, feeling the rapid movement of his ribcage as he tried to find some control, she finally released him and moved up his body to lick the salty skin of his stomach. Reaching a hand into her hair, she removed one of his hands and, joining their fingers together, placed them above and over his head, as she slid further up his body to rest on him, fully stretched out.

For a few moments she lay staring at him, basking in the stormy blue of his eyes, the passion, lust, and a cheeky glint of mischief. Smiling, she reached to kiss him and share his taste, his tongue already leaving his mouth, reaching for her. After a few moments, Killian lifted his body upward into a reclined sitting position and pulled her along his body, devouring her mouth. When they finally stopped and pulled apart, they shared a moment of calm.

Killian left one leg bent at the knee against the seat back, his other leg went over the side of the seat to sit on the floor. He pushed himself back to sit better against their jackets, then grabbed her shirt and slipped it back over her body, but left it open at the front. He turned Emma to sit in the junction of his legs. She reached down for the soda, taking a drink before passing it to Killian. He took the drink and easily finished half of it, not having realized just how thirsty he was.

Emma rested back against him, the large bucket of buttered popcorn with milk duds in her lap. Eating her buttery chocolate goodness, she smiled as his hands wandered around her, one to settle at her waist, the other moving up to cup a breast.

"You swallowed." he grinned, rubbing his face in her neck.

Emma laughed at that and popped some more popcorn in her mouth, munching happily. "Delicious!" Killian's laughter in her hair made her laugh even more, and they both continued to laugh until an angry hushing sound came from somewhere in the dark below them.

Emma finally put the popcorn away and turned in his arms to wrap an arm around his neck. Moving her other hand up his bare chest, she looked at him, moving over his features almost as if she was mapping them for all time. Killian pulled her to him and kissed her slowly, with gentle care. Sinking back down to lie on the seat, he pulled her entire body over his and ran his hands down her naked back under her opened shirt, past the waistband of her loose jeans to grip her ass firmly, pulling her into his lower body. He was surprised to realize she was wearing nothing under her jeans, and her skin was soft and silky, sending shockwaves up his arms.

All the fantasies he’d had in his youth about making out in a darkened movie theater were being realized. However, the reality was much more intense, hotter than any of his previous vanilla fantasies could have imagined. The sensation of her skin against his, her tongue mating with his as she softly muttered his name into his mouth was well worth the price of a movie ticket, some drinks, popcorn, and hell, she could have all the milk duds she wanted! The taste of the chocolate caramel in her mouth with the buttery popcorn was a completely new sensory overload.

When the movie was over, they hurried to straighten their clothing and, collecting their trash, they rejoined Tink and Peter. Tink took one look at their disheveled state of dress, messed up hair, Killian's shirt buttoned wrong with one side tucked in and the other not, and both of their lips puffy and red from kissing, and she smiled. Peter seemed oblivious. He turned and asked Killian how he liked the movie.

"Great! Loved it," he answered with a shit-eating grin. Emma pinched his side, hiding her own smile and exchanging a look with Tink.

"Yeah, it was awesome. So, what was your favorite part?" Peter continued enthusiastically.

Killian froze for a second. What the hell did Emma say the bloody movie was supposed to be about? He could hear the soft snickering coming from the golden blonde wrapped under his arm. "Um...the aliens in space part?"

Both Tink and Emma lost it in a peal of laughter. Before Peter could point out that the entire story was about aliens in space, Killian's eyes met Emma's and he joined in the laughter. God! The things she made him do!

They stopped at Killian's apartment after the movie. Killian opened the door, a little apprehensive with having her there. After living in Emma's home for the last few days, his place looked even emptier than before.

Killian parked Emma in the middle of the room and told her not to move. Rushing around his bedroom, he found his dress blues, a few more things he needed, and his dress shoes. Grabbing a small bag for a few items including a novel he was in the middle of reading, he went out to find that she hadn't obeyed.

Emma was flipping through his iPod and playing with its dock. Looking over her shoulder at him, she smiled. "I love this system. It’s so streamlined, with great sound quality. And some of your music choices are great! We have overlap." Killian watched as she put on the headphones and started humming. Going to his refrigerator, he grabbed two beers, turned the lights down low and came up behind her to switch the sound from headphones to full speakers. Killian removed the headphones to guide her back to his sofa and sat down with her next to him.

Killian watched her drink her beer, listening to the music. Seeing her in his home, watching her move around in the space of his nearly empty life, it made life seemed fuller, better.

"Emma? Do you need ice trays?"

Emma looked at him in confusion, wondering where that question came from. "No. You know that metal thing in the corner of my kitchen, by the door leading into the garage. You know what I'm talking about, right?" She waited for him to nod. "It's an ice maker. I hate not having enough ice. So, I think I've got the ice thing covered." Sometimes he was just to enigmatical for words.

"Good," he said with that smug smile of his.

"What’re you smiling at?" Emma asked without looking over at him.

"I'm not smiling."

Emma snorted and then laughed as she took another draw from her beer. "So, what did we stop for?"

Killian took a drink and then started peeling the label off his bottle. "My dress blues. I need them tomorrow." Emma's look of interest made him continue. "Tomorrow we bury Jim Knight, the young officer killed during the bust the other night."

Emma was silent for a moment, remembering how upset Killian was the first time he came to her. Feeling his body racked in pain and holding him close, that was when she first started feeling him, and when they woke up that morning and did the dirty, it was as if so much information rushed through her, that it overwhelmed her senses. She could still feel his sorrow; still see how upset he was over losing even one man.

“Tell me about your brother,” she said gently as she settled against his side, bringing an arm around his waist.

Killian scratched his ear, half near telling her it was none of her business. His voice surprised him. “Liam, his name was Liam.”

“What are the odds?” she whispered, tilting her head up to catch his eyes. She continued when he raised his brow. “That you would have a brother, and I have an almost brother, called Liam.”

Killian shrugged. “It means strong-willed warrior,” he told her.

“What does Killian mean?” she asked, interested.

“Strife or battle, possibly fierce, it’s not really clear.”

Emma laughed at that. “Well, either way, you were certainly named right.”

“What does Emma mean?” he asked, tipping his head to look at her as his fingers brushed through her hair.

“I have no clue,” she answered. “I didn’t have a parent who named me, a nurse did. It’s just my name.”

They were silent for a few more seconds before Killian started again. “Liam was everything to me, a big brother, a best friend, a confidant, and a father figure. He was so much better than me, at everything. I wanted to be just like him, to have the respect he always got, to see the world as he did, a world with hope that everything would turn out right for us. I followed him into the police academy, trying to prove to him I wasn’t a waste, that there was hope for me.”

“What happened to him?”

“Shot while on duty as Desk Sergeant. Some juiced up fucker strolls into the P.D. and starts shooting. Liam never had a chance and I held in him my arms as he died.”

Emma swallowed as he talked, hating to think of Killian so broken by the death of his brother. And tomorrow they would be burying another young police officer, another who had died needlessly.

"Do you need me? Tomorrow?" she asked it so quietly he almost didn't hear it.

Yes. Bloody hell, yes, he did! He wanted her next to him as he watched a young life wasted be laid to rest. But he couldn't ask. She was unbalancing him too much. Even in the movie theater, she turned him to mush. If she stood at his side tomorrow, holding his hand while he tried to break his own jaw with the tension, he didn't know how he would ever be able to separate her from his life. Nothing lasted forever, and every day, minute-by-minute, he was fast running up against a wall that told him he wasn't going to survive Emma Swan.

Wanting to say yes, Killian just shook his head. “No, love. I'll be fine. It's early in the morning, so it'll be over fast." Emma just leaned against him and worried about how much his silence and isolation cost him. Part of her sensed he held himself apart, protecting himself from people and pain. She couldn't understand why he never tried to hold back or move away from her.

"Okay." Emma turned to sit up next to him on her knees. "But if you need me, you've got my number, right, Detective?"

"Yeah, I've got your number, Professor."

Emma’s face became very serious and her eyes searched his face until finally she leaned in to take his mouth in a soft kiss. "So what's your bed look like?"

Killian laughed, putting away both their empty beer bottles, wishing it had been something stronger. If he’d known she was going to ask about Liam, he most definitely would have pulled the rum out. He wondered if she liked rum. He picked her up in his arms and carried her into his bedroom so she could take a ride in his bed.

"I've been meaning to ask you. Do you ever get lightheaded or dizzy with all your blood pooling in that part of your body? I mean, it's not exactly small!" Emma asked with a straight face. Killian just laughed at the question. "No, really! I'm serious!"

~*~

 


	8. Time for Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys continue to astound me with your reviews for this story. I love to hear your thoughts and comments, it makes the months of creating it worth it. Thank you. 
> 
> I have no doubt this story would not be what it is without the constant help from my fabulous beta ilovemesomekillianjones. Not only does she keep up with me but she also writes herself. Go check out her work, it's awesome. 
> 
> No chapter warning for this one, only copious amounts of smut! You're welcome. 
> 
> Also, no artwork accompanies this chapter but check out @jenswans and @swanemma on tumblr. They create some terrific work.

**Chapter 8: Time for Change**

David walked wearily into his apartment, tossing his keys on the table by the door. It was strange to be home after a date. Usually he spent the night with whomever, but not this time. As soon as they were finished, instead of staying and sleeping there, he got up, dressed, and told Kathryn he needed to get home since he had an early morning. That was a lie. True, tomorrow was going to be difficult with the full funeral brigade, but it would be no earlier than usual.

It was Killian's fault. He was right. David was quickly fucking his way through the female population of Storybrooke trying to prove something to himself. What? Even David wasn’t sure. But seeing Killian seeming to settle into what looked to be a life altering relationship, was making David feel his years, or, more likely, the waste of his life. Sure, at twenty-eight he wasn't exactly old, but then again, he wasn't getting younger either. Killian Jones, happy and in love. It was overwhelming. David knew that wild horses wouldn't be able get Killian to admit it. However, David heard him, heard the way he said ‘Professor’ with a gentling to his voice that David never thought he’d hear again. Walking in on them in Emma's office was more than just a little eye opening.

David was jealous... no, not really jealous as much as envious. Emma Swan. David wanted an Emma Swan in his life. Someone that just moved into all the empty spaces and made them suddenly worthwhile. Wasn’t everyone looking for that one person to spend their entire life with?

He found his thoughts wandering to Mary Margaret, wondering what she was doing tonight, and what was happening with her and Booth. He couldn’t stop speculating that she was in Booth’s bed, being pleasured by that cocksure bastard who thought he was God’s gift to women everywhere. That thought annoyed him more than it should have. Mary Margaret was too pure to fall under Booth’s spell and David knew Booth would only hurt her in the end. She deserved someone better, someone more like her, someone like him. He knew his time of pussyfooting around the forensics specialist was over. It was time he showed her how he truly felt. Maybe that was the reason he hadn’t stayed longer in Kathryn’s bed.

Regina heard the apartment door open and came out of her bedroom to investigate who her late night visitor was. She had assumed David was out for the night, so his coming home was unexpected. David seemed equally surprised to see Regina. Perhaps she was out of money, after all, she was living on his income. Maybe it was time for her to stand on her own two feet.

Watching the expressions that quickly crossed her brother’s face served to make her more aware that David was becoming increasingly worried about how he was going to continue to support her and her problems. But, she also knew he would never turn her away, never pull back on the support he gave her.

"Hi,” she greeted. “I thought you were going on a date with... Kathryn tonight." She sat down on the arm of the sofa and looked at her brother.

"I did, but I wasn't really into it, so I came home early," David explained as he took off his jacket and hung it by the door.

"That doesn't sound like you," Regina mumbled as she slid onto a sofa cushion, dejected. David looked over at her, frowning. She was home, clean, and looking sober.

"It’s not like you to be home, either. What's going on, Regina?" David realized what he said and cursed himself. Wasn’t this what he wanted? Her to be home and clean, instead of out somewhere boozing it up, high on drugs, doing some disease-ridden loser.

Regina just shrugged, clearly disheartened before asking, "What's wrong with me, David? I mean other than the drinking, the drugs, and men. I mean me, personally," she paused for a moment, then added, "I mean, if you met me, saw me across a room, wouldn't you want to know me, especially if, say I was sending you huge come-on vibes?”

David’s frown deepened. The booze, drugs, and men were a hell of a lot. He sighed as he moved to sit beside Regina. Looking at her all clean and fresh faced, it was easy to slip back into time, to think that these last few years hadn't happened. "Okay, first thing...ick, Regina, ick. And second, looking at you, as a woman and not my sister... there's nothing wrong with you that I can see."

"Then why can't I get Robin Locksley?"

David stood angrily and began to pace the room. "Dammit, Regina! You'd have to go after him, wouldn't you? The man is a suspect in an ongoing murder investigation." When Regina continued to stare at him blankly, he continued, "Why not a nice man, a Mr. Charming or something? Oh no, you go after a bad boy, punk rocker who has more holes pierced in his body than you do. The man was wearing a nipple ring, for god's sake!"

"I like him!” Regina returned, heatedly. “Okay, maybe I could like him more if he would give me the time of day." She stood from the sofa and moved into the kitchen to put on water for some instant coffee. "When I'm around him I feel things... I feel like I'm protected, like everything is going to be all right." Regina looked down at her shaking hands, and picked up the spoon to put coffee granules in the two cups. "I think he could be the one to help me find a reason to live again."

David moved into the kitchen and stepped close behind Regina, his arms going around her waist, and pulling her back against him, hugging her tight. "Maybe, Regina, just maybe you need to stop looking for someone to save you and just do it yourself." David turned her around and looked at her sad face. "You're so much stronger than you know... more than you give yourself credit for. Stop looking for a hero, stop waiting for the Killian Jones’, the Robin Locksley’s, and David Nolan’s to save you, and grow up! He’s dead. Daniel is dead. And the safe life he gave you is dead. However, he wouldn't have wanted you to stop living just because he’s gone. Make his love worth something, Regina, and learn to go on."

Tears streaking down her face, Regina curled into her brother’s embrace. "I know... I know. I tell myself that every night, every day, every minute of every day. I miss him so much thinking about all the things we’ll never do. Get married, have children, grow old together. He was always so strong, so kind. It's the injustice, the loss I can't seem to overcome. It's drowning me, and then I need something to make me forget, to give me a few hours of numbness."

"I know, Regina, but you're reaching a breaking point. You’re nearing thirty, and instead of moving on in your live, you’re floundering and stagnate." David reached behind her as the kettle started to whistle. Lifting it from the stove, he poured the water into the cups. He watched as she doctored hers with cream and sugar then they both went into the living room and sat down.

"Are you lecturing Killian as well, David?" Regina asked as she sipped her coffee.

"Actually, no.  Killian seems to have found his own way, and every day he's getting better," David told her, enjoying his sister's look of interest at that cryptic information.

"You're going to have to do better than that," she said with a sound of disdain.

"He went on a double date tonight with Emma." He tried to say it nonchalantly, but Regina caught it immediately. It shocked her so much that she choked on her coffee.

"Oh my God! Not possible! Mr. ‘I'll go to my grave before I ever fall in love, again’ is not only on a date, but a double date?"

"Worse. He asked me when I dropped him off if he looked okay!" David added, trying to stifle a grin.

Regina looked at her brother in horror, and then suddenly they both started laughing.

"David, you're so right. We're definitely in need of some life altering events because if Killian Jones is smoking us in the growing up department, we're in trouble."

“Hey,” David said indignantly, “there was never a mention of me in this conversation.”

“Oh, please, David,” Regina snorted. “You’re pining away for that Mary Margaret woman, fucking every woman in sight instead of admitting what you want. Face it, brother, we’re both fucked up.”

David opened his mouth to argue, then conceded, nodding as he leaned back to finish his coffee. Both were quiet and thoughtful thinking about their lives and where they wanted to go. Occasionally they would share a look and break out in laughter at the thought of Killian on a double date.

~*~

Regina couldn't sleep. All she could think about was her life, or her lack of a life, and Robin Locksley. Why? Why didn't he like her? Regina turned and hit the pillow, trying to form it into something comfortable. She and David had sat up talking for a while, trying to catch up on what was going on in their lives. David told her about his walking in on Killian and his new girlfriend, Emma. Instead of being funny, it depressed Regina even more. Killian was a great guy, but he was repressed and, lately, highly dysfunctional on a social level. So, if he was overcoming his problems, then where did that leave her and David? The answer was too obvious. It left them even bigger losers than usual.

Regina rolled over and picked up the phone. Without thinking, she called her surrogate brother; just needing to hear his voice telling her it was going to be all right.

"Hello?"

Regina froze at the sleepy sound of a woman's voice answering the phone after so many rings. She never bothered to look at the time, and at three in the morning, it was possible that Killian was sleeping elsewhere. Then the voice came again, a little more awake. "Hello? Is there someone there?"

Regina heard the bed moving, and then Killian's voice, low and husky. "Who is it, Professor?"

"I don't know. They're not answering. Maybe it's your..." Regina heard her voice lower in mocked horror, "wife!" Killian started laughing and Regina could hear the woman laughing too with the sound of them moving around on the bed. Regina silently hung up the phone feeling as if she just lost another piece of her life.

Killian Jones was laughing...

~*~

David was surprised awake by the phone. It was Killian telling him to pick him up at his place instead of Emma's. Looking at the clock, David swore, and quickly got up. He had overslept. It was already seven-thirty, and Killian would be expecting him by eight.

David hit the shower, wondering why Killian slept at home and not Emma's. Maybe the double date didn't go well? Getting out of the shower, he suddenly stopped in front of his closet, looking at the dress blues hanging in his wardrobe. Somber in thought, he dressed himself, meticulously pushing each button into place, the entire act of dressing in this uniform was part of the funeral process. A way for them to grieve as a unit, to honor those who have fallen in the line of duty, trying to protect the innocent.  Philosophically he thought Death was only one step in an endless journey. It had to be, because David needed to believe there was somewhere else, somewhere to continue.

~*~

Killian dug out his brother's shaving kit, since his was at Emma's place. His hands paused as he slowly unpacked it, remembering the day he put it away and his own brother's funeral, in a haze. He had been so hyped up on drugs for shock that the day was little more than a clouded memory as David had held him upright. He hated funerals, detested what they represented, and especially today. It meant he’d fucked up. He failed, and another young man was dead.

Emma watched him groom his attractive scruff and dress, liking the expanse of his shoulders in the dress blues, the neatness of all the golden buttons, the tie. The strip of color ribbon across his left breast symbolized something special, acknowledged all the great deeds he’d accomplished. The hat had a low bill that covered his eyes, hiding the darkness and cold regard as he stared back at himself. Emma came up to him and placed a cup of coffee on the counter next to him and reached up to straighten his tie, and then gently kiss him.

Leaving him to finish, she went to make breakfast. Searching his sparse kitchen for food or anything edible, Emma finally settled on making French toast since he had a loaf of unsliced bread, eggs, milk, and syrup. She even found some cinnamon. Emma paused and stood looking in the freezer for a few moments, and then shrugged and closed it, shaking her head. Why a man would need that many ice trays was something she clearly didn’t understand. When Killian came into the room and placed his dress overcoat across a chair with his hat, her heart sped up. _Oh god! He looked... he was gorgeous! A man in uniform!_ They should insist he wear this uniform all the time, not just on sad occasions.

She turned back to the task at hand, slicing the bread with a large knife. Killian looked at her and quickly went over to take the knife from her. Her deadly concentration was scary. "I'll do that."

Before Emma could protest that she was doing an okay job, a knock came at the door. Leaving Killian to slice the bread, Emma went to answer the door.

"Hi, David!"

David came in, placing his coat over Killian's, and noticed Emma looking too sexy in Killian's old Boston P.D. t-shirt. It was impossible to miss the menacing look Killian gave him when he checked out Emma's shapely legs.

"Morning. Killian, you ready to go soon?" David asked, quickly looking anywhere but at Emma’s ass as she moved back to the kitchen. Killian just nodded and continued to cut the bread. David frowned. It was already starting. Killian was always quiet on days of funerals.

"He needs to eat first. Did you have breakfast yet, David?" Emma asked kindly.

David shook his head. He had been in too much of a hurry to stop for something. He went to sit beside Killian and watched as Emma reached over and took some slices of bread, dipped them in the egg mixture she’d prepared, and started cooking them. She poured them both a glass of milk, and some coffee for David, and put plates and syrup in front of them.

After they finished eating, Killian went into his bedroom, leaving Emma looking at David while drinking her large mug of coffee. "David?"

He looked at her, seeing the frown on her beautiful face. David couldn't believe it, but his heart fluttered in his chest. She was so breathtaking! Emma took a card off the counter, reached over, and placed it in his breast pocket. "This is my number. Call me if it gets bad, if he needs me.”

He was shocked how astute it was of Emma to realize today would be a bad day for his partner. Killian didn’t take loss well, especially when he considered himself to blame. Every funeral brought back memories of Liam Jones, and Killian had never accepted that he couldn't have saved his brother. David was hoping it wouldn't be too bad, but he nodded anyway.

When Killian was ready, they headed toward the door, Emma kissed David on the cheek, and then pulled Killian in for a more intimate kiss. David was surprised when Killian held her close a little longer, his head resting against hers. It wasn't until they were getting ready to walk through the door that Killian suddenly stopped, realizing something.

"Bloody Hell! Emma, we can't leave you alone!"

Emma just smiled and pushed him out the door. "I'm fine! I'm going to clean up the dishes, get dressed, and go home to change. Then I'm going to work. I think I'll be fine between here and there. Just go. I'll call you when I get to work." Emma motioned to David to take Killian away. "Go!" After she shut the door behind them, Emma rested against it, instantly worrying about him.

By eleven o'clock David was frantically looking for Emma's card. The funeral procession was over by ten and every moment since then had been a living hell. Killian was on a rampage terrorizing the entire department, sending secretaries into early retirement, and bringing young rookies practically to tears.

Ruby threatened to report Killian, again, but after taking one look at him, she reversed course and took off to safer grounds. Working with Tink at the university was looking to be a godsend. David could handle his partner throwing yet another file at him, but after Killian’s third argument with August, where David had to physically stop August from drawing his weapon to take Killian out, he knew he needed Emma’s help.

"This is Emma."

David almost dropped to his knees hearing her voice. "Emma! It's David. Could you-"

Before David could even finish his request, Emma interrupted him. "On my way! Give me about forty-five minutes, and don't let him go to lunch."

David frowned as the phone disconnected. Damn! Forty-five minutes? Someone was going to kill his partner before then. David swore he saw Captain Nemo fingering the safety on his own gun.

 

Emma circled the station twice trying to find a parking space. _Fuck!_ She had a garment bag, a shoulder bag, and a large box to carry. Finally giving up, she double-parked in front of the main entrance, in a tow away zone. Entering the precinct, she found a young officer working the front desk.

"Excuse me, Officer?" she beamed.

He smiled politely at her, taking in her legs and beautiful face. "Can I help you, ma'am?"

"Yes. I’m double parked in the tow away zone out front-"

Before she could finish, he interrupted her. “Ma'am, that is illegal. I'm afraid you'll be ticketed and towed."

Emma just smiled engagingly, juggling her load. "Oh dear, and I was just delivering my boyfriend's lunch."

The man looked at her suspiciously, not recognizing her. "Your boyfriend? He works here."

"Yes, Detective Killian Jones. You wouldn't know where I could find him, would you?" Emma watched the man start to sweat, and a look of fear entering his eyes, so she added a little more pressure. "Maybe you could just call my father, Captain Nemo, and have him send someone down to take these sandwiches to Major Crimes, and Detective Jones' clothes. I would hate to be towed or ticketed."

The young man took her elbow and led her to the elevator, pushing the up button for her. "Don't worry, ma'am. I'll personally watch your car."

"Yellow Bug, out front."

"The yellow bug,” he acknowledged, “believe me, I'll make sure no one tows or even touches it." The elevator arrived and Emma stepped in; she reached into her box, pulled out a sandwich and tossed it to the young man.

"Aren't you just the sweetest man, Officer...?"

"Andrews, ma'am."

"Andrews!" Emma acknowledged, waving goodbye to him as the doors closed.

Emma entered the bullpen and watched the flood of activity as people answered phones, spoke with witnesses, and cops, both plain clothes and uniformed, busied themselves with the task of doing their duty to protect Storybrooke. Finding David sitting at a desk with a harassed look on his face, she made her way to his side.

"Am I too late? Is he dead, or has he just killed someone?"

David looked up at a vision, a savior in sea green. Emma Swan. She smiled and handed him a sandwich, Italian sub, extra cheese. David looked at the sandwich and then back at her, and fell head over heels in love with her.

"Where’s Gus?" she asked, looking around the space, not seeing her friend.     

David mirrored her glances before shouting to the conference room door. "Booth!"

A pissed off August came out. "What now!" Seeing Emma, who forgot to come home last night, or call, he quickly came over. Before he could say a word, she held out a sandwich to him, and when he saw it was Italian meatball, with extra peppers, he gave a whoop and picked her up in a big bear hug.

"Put her down, _mate_!"

David, August, and Emma turned toward the angry growl. There stood Killian, eyeing August with a dark, possessive look on his face. Emma quickly removed August's hands from her waist and pushed the box in his hands instead.

"Don't start August,” she warned darkly. “It's okay. Take these sandwiches and pass them out to the others. The prosciutto on top is Dak's." Emma turned and placed a sandwich on Killian's desk for him before moving over to him, fingering his tie. He had removed his jacket and put it on the back of his chair, and his overcoat was hanging up over his desk on a hook. "Hey, Detective, I brought sandwiches. Why don't you take a break with me before I've got to get back to work?"

Emma bent down and grabbed the shoulder bag she’d dropped, then handed David the garment bag. David mouthed a thank you to her as she gently led Killian toward interrogation room four.

"What are you doing here, Professor?" Killian asked, leaning against the closed door of the small room.

Emma smiled to herself as she hopped up on the table and slowly crossed her legs. Not only had she pre-ordered sandwiches for the entire bullpen, but she’d stopped at home and changed out of what she’d worn to work, and into what she was wearing now.

The sea green dress was a short, silk wrap. She was wearing nothing except small green panties underneath, and it molded her like a second skin. The heels were small strappy sandals with spiked heels. Sometimes a woman needed all the tools in her arsenal when dealing with an out of control, pissed off bad boy.

"I thought I would bring you a change of clothes," Emma offered, looking over at him, waiting for him to come closer, away from the door. If he would come within touching range, it would be easier. "And a sandwich... hope you haven't eaten yet.”

"No, no I haven't," Killian replied, watching her with narrow eyes. He took in the silky dress, short and clinging to her perfect curves, as her innocent, pale green eyes assessed him. He’d told her he would be fine, but somehow with the magnitude of the relief he felt, just looking at her, he knew he hadn’t been. It was tough, reconciling the loss today. Standing at the gravesite, he had watched Jim Knight’s parents and fiancée bury him. It hurt to think of what they would have to do to survive, to overcome. Killian remembered his brother, and it brings him to the beginning, where this version of himself was created, the moment he lost someone irreplaceable. "I figured you would be tired of the reminder, so I brought you a change of clothes. Hope you don't mind me going through your drawers. I picked a nice, tight black t-shirt, a pair of jeans, button fly, and your utilitarian shoulder holster." Emma watched him slowly come towards her as she opened the bag and looked inside, naming off the list of items inside. "And an appropriate pair of shoes."

Killian came to stand in front of her, looking in the bag, too. "Thank you." He leaned down and kissed the side of her neck, rubbing his forehead against her, and then just resting for a moment. The damn dress blues was a constant reminder; one he didn't want right now.

"You're welcome, Detective. I was just glad you were still alive when I arrived, and there was no report of a police officer going on a rampage, killing his co-workers."

Killian smiled at that, knowing he deserved her concern since he’d spent the morning in a black mood.

"Too bad it's just me in here with you. If it was a ruthless criminal, you could rough them up a little, and get back something you need."

Killian was shocked that she realized he needed to hurt something, someone. That he felt the need to dominate and run wild. Remembering her reaction to Marco's death, maybe she understood even more than he gave her credit for.

"Do you know what I was thinking the first time you had me in an interrogation room?" Emma asked conversationally as Killian moved his hands up her arms and down again, wrapping his hands around her wrists.

"What?"

"I was wondering how hard and how bad you wanted to fuck me,” she purred into his ear, before lightly grazing her teeth over its tip.

Killian's breath stuck in his throat. He hadn't realized he had been that obvious.

Emma ignored his reaction and pulled him between her now splayed legs. She unknotted his tie, leaving it hanging, and unbuttoned his blue dress shirt. "I know it was only a few hours after we met, but your eyes, no, it was your hands... okay it might have been your totally kissable lips that had me hoping you wanted to interrogate me bad cop style. You know, to get me back for calling you a ‘Pig’ and not being cooperative."

Killian kissed her, his eyes dark and deadly, and close to hers. "What did you want me to do?"

"I wanted you to pick me up out of my chair and turn me around towards the table. I wanted you to bend me over with one of your hands pushing on the small of my back, holding me down."

Killian tried to breathe past the lump in his throat, his eyes constricting.

"I imagined you rubbing up against me,” she continued, “your dick pressing against my ass, as you tried to intimidate me.”

Killian's eyebrow went up at that. "But you wouldn't have been? Intimidated, I mean..."

"Of course not!” she smirked. “I'm made of stronger stuff than that."

Killian nodded his head in agreement with that assessment, knowing she would’ve remained sassy and brave in any situation. "Even the sound of you unzipping your jeans wouldn't have made me back down. I wanted the roughness of your hands on my skin as you pushed my skirt up…"

Killian cleared his throat. "You were wearing slacks."

Emma leaned forward and moaned into his mouth. "Spoilsport!" She moved her hands up his bare chest from where she’d opened his shirt and he gasped when her nails curled into the hair above his nipples.

"Okay, okay, you can have your skirt, but only if there were no panties!"

"Fine! You're so lazy." Emma moved her mouth down to lick his nipple, grazing it with her teeth. She delighted in his breathless, _tell me more_ , as it rushed from his throat.

"I could feel the hard meat of you as you slid between my thighs, threatening to penetrate me with your _huge_ cock."

Killian laughed at her emphasis on size. "I'm really good," he muttered in self-congratulations. His hand found the sash that kept her dress tied closed, taking the skin of her neck in between his teeth and nipping it, he slowly pulled the tie open.

"Not really! At first I thought, ‘this tough cop’s seen way too many prison porn movies, then I thought maybe your hands rubbing my ass was representative of your internal struggles with being gay."

"Bitch!" Killian laughed aloud. "Were you wet?"

"Absolutely dripping,” she whispered, “I was planning on going to confession later for my most inappropriate, shameful behavior of letting a five-o work me over without a word of protest, or even attempting to struggle. Just rolling over is a bad thing you know. I should have offered you a blowjob and then clamped down, locking my jaw."

Killian could imagine that too vividly and felt some of his heated response to her woven fantasy cooling down.

"But you were so hot standing there with your arms crossed over your chest looking all… dangerous. I would've more than likely just deep throated you."

Killian muttered his appreciation at her deep regards for his continued ability to serve.

"So did I? Penetrate, I mean."

"Damn straight! I swore obscenities at you, threatened you with dire consequences to make you punish me more. Your fingers left bruises on my ass as you fiercely pumped into me, trying to break me. Nothing like a good, hard fuck to loosen the tongue of a prisoner."

Killian's mouth wandered down her exposed front, taking a taut nipple in his mouth and sucking it, making her moan, and arch into his mouth.

"Did I...? Did I get you to break...? To confess...?" Killian asked as his lips continued to tease her. He moved her easily and tugged at her panties, helping her lift her ass as he pulled them down her thighs. Emma tried to reach for them, but he put them in his pants pocket.

Pulling his mouth off her breast, she kissed him, sucking his tongue into her mouth as it rasped against hers. Her voice was lower and deeper. "No way, five-o, I was using you for rough sex. I might be shameless, but I ain't no snitch!"

Killian groaned against her. "Bloody hell, Swan! Unbutton me."

Emma reached down and unbuttoned his trousers. The only thing she liked better than a man in uniform, was a man out of it.

"I should warn you before you pursue this any further that I'm still dangerously close to-"

Killian moved his hands to her ass and pulled her to the edge of the table, pushing her back on the surface. Her legs came around his waist, and she braced herself on her hands so she could watch him position himself to enter her. He leaned forward, his mouth coming to hers. "I know, I don't care."

Emma's eyes shut and her head fell back when he pushed in. There was nothing small or gentle about him. She had pushed his buttons good. Emma had to remember to tell him the fantasy she had about the two of them stuck in the P.D. elevator, between floors, with the security camera working.

He hoisted her closer, grunting something about how tight she was. Emma's hands moved up to wrap around his neck, to keep her from losing contact with him. Killian moved his mouth to the junction of her neck, sucking voraciously on her skin. She cried out in pain when he finally bit down at the same time he pushed into her vigorously. He could feel the tremors in her legs as they squeezed around him.

Emma’s hands moved again, to his shoulders, while his remained on her ass; they were joining together in this oldest of all dances, there on the table, two becoming one, neither trying to be quiet. Killian could feel the wetness slide on him as he pushed into her tightness relentlessly. Emma's insides were shaking, and he felt the same tremors move into his hands.

Emma could feel the quivers start deep in her stomach and she couldn't be still. She moved faster, a hand inching to touch herself, touch him. Feeling between them she stroked his dick each time he pulled out, before pounding back into her. Killian groaned deeply and pushed her down roughly, raising her hips to his thrusts, loving her laid out on the table under him, with her golden hair spread out. He tried to hold on to her as she bucked under him, her teeth clenched, cords strung tight in her throat, and her breathing was so harsh he could feel it, hot on his chest.

She opened her eyes a slit, watching them where they were joined. He still had his shirt on, with the tie hanging around his neck, and for some reason, his dangling tie alone just about put Emma right over the edge. Killian reached down to pull his shirt tails aside when they got in his way, baring his stomach, his chest. Emma rose to him, unable to resist his glorious body, and pressed her bare skin to his. It was that or jerk him off into her as he fucked her. Killian decided for her. Taking her hand from his dick, he interlaced their fingers and wrapped his arm around her, pinning her arm against her back. He held her body close, pumping into her with long, fluid jerks. The rest was history as they both came, Killian shouting her name.

Both were too spent to move. It was difficult to care what was left to do, or left to say. Breathing had to come first, and Emma nuzzled her nose into the skin of his neck, gently licking a mark she left earlier.

"Killian?"

He made a noise under his breath as he rested against her. “Uh huh?”

"That mirror isn't a two-way, like in the movies, is it?"

Killian paused before glancing over his shoulder at the mirror, and then cursed a blue streak. Pulling out of her, he straightened his clothes, then sat her up and tied her dress shut over her naked breasts, marked by his mouth. Leaning his forehead against hers for a few moments, he helped her off the table and held her up when her shaking legs threatened to collapse under her. When she was finally able to hold herself up, he gathered her stuff and his and led them out of the interrogation room.

Killian leaned her against the wall at the elevator and pushed the button for the next car. Looking at her mussed-up appearance, he wanted to pull her nicely reddened lips back into his. Killian didn't know how to thank her for the lunch break, the distraction from his day long misery, and for saving him from the dark pit he could have easily fallen into.

"Killian, I was thinking when you get home tonight, that you might take us for a drive, to help blow away some of your cobwebs." Killian smiled at how she called her condo home for them both.

"The GTO?" Killian asked hopefully.

"No, I was thinking more along the lines of a few hundred pounds of smooth metal and steel in the form of the Harley."

Killian looked at her, his eyes darkened at the thought of her straddling that monster machine behind him, her legs mated against his, and her arms holding him tight. _Bloody hell._ He didn't have time to take care of another erection. A forbidden picture of her interrogation room fantasy with a twist popped into his brain. Emma leaning over the seat of the Harley with him behind her, his hands on her beautiful lean ass… Killian moaned and leaned his head against her again. _What the hell is wrong with me lately?_

“How do you feel about handcuffs?” he asked, his voice gruff and full of wanting.

“Oh, Detective, you’ll just have to find out,” she teased.

He kissed her once more, soft, and delicately. "Thank you, Professor, for a diversion on a bad day."

Emma smiled at him, stroking his stubble gently as he kissed her goodbye, placing her in the elevator. Killian took his fresh clothes and headed for the nearest bathroom to clean up and change. He needed to remember to tell her exactly what he was thinking that day in the interrogation room. How he wanted to grab her from her seat and fuck her hard up against the wall. Somehow, he just knew she would appreciate it. When he got back to his desk, he opened his sandwich she brought him, ignoring the looks from his partner and others. A hearty man's meat sub with extra meat! Killian just sat back and enjoyed it.

Emma, on the way down, had the same thought. She probably should find a restroom quickly, before deposits left by Detective Jones started running down her inner thighs. Better yet, she should just go home again, shower, and change. Boy, that man left her insides aching, her thighs sore, and the rest of her juicy! With a jolt, Emma realized what was missing.

Bastard! He’d kept her underwear! Emma hurried downstairs to retrieve her car from the very sweet Officer Andrews. Some people needed to get work done today.

~*~

 


	9. Innocence Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad you all seemed to enjoy the last chapter ;) Thanks for all your comments. 
> 
> Chapter warning for this one: Contains character death. (Hope I don't drive you all off with this one). 
> 
> Kudos go to ilovemesomekillianjones as always for being the best beta out there. 
> 
> Not gonna say much, just let you get into the chapter. Enjoy...

**Chapter 9: Innocence Lost**

Ruby made it to the History Department in record time. It was a good day not to be working with Detective ‘Mean and Brooding’ Jones. Damn that man needed an attitude adjustment! Ruby frowned thinking about the nice, sweet Professor Swan having to deal with him, and then just shrugged. Some women were gluttons for abusive relationships, but in a decisive moment of insight, Ruby admitted to herself that with Emma, Killian was different. It was like she was taming his inner beast.

Tink was in her room, working on the computer at the worktable reserved for her TA. There was a large pile of papers already generated. Seeing Ruby in the door, she smiled broadly. _Finally! Relief!_

"Thank God, Ruby! I'm out the door in ten minutes, I have two classes consecutively, and I have a meeting with a student after that. The search came back with some interesting stuff, including thousands of articles on the Elite Guards and a few on Eala Dhiaga. Some are relevant, but I think most will prove not to be. I printed out a hard copy for you, and downloaded a copy."

"I didn't know there would be so much!" Ruby commented as she looked at all the papers strewn around the office.

"Believe it or not, a few of these editorials were written by our own Professor Marco Geppeti. It seems that Marco was on the original dig that discovered the Elite Guard’s armor, and it certainly explains his fascination. There are some crossover essays with English and History Departments analyzing the importance of the warrior princess to Arthurian legends.

Ruby looked at the huge pile of work a little deflated. "This will take days."

"I know, but I think if you read through the summaries and discard any article that looks to be outside our interest, we can narrow down the field, and then we can run another search based on the articles of interest." Tink looked at her watch and swore. "Okay, I've got to go. Tell you what, I'm going to be back around three, and then I plan to spend the night, or late into the night. So, I'll be back to help you in a couple of hours."

Ruby smiled at the woman. "Thanks, I appreciate all the help I can get. I guess I'll order some food and get to work. I can't stay to work with you all night because I have a date with August, but I'll stay as late as possible and be back bright and early.”

"Deal!" Tink headed for the door, then turned around to add, "We'll talk later when I get back, and you can tell me all about the delectable August Booth. He looks yummy. Oh, my, my, my! There must be something in the water down at the P.D., how else could there be that many gorgeous men running around in one office?"

Ruby laughed as Tink left the room and started weeding through the articles, looking for those of importance. This database was a treasure, it was comprised of protected servers among subscribing universities, therefore it wasn't accessible to the public. Getting up, Ruby went to find a cup of coffee. This task wasn't going to be easy.

Ruby had been working for a few hours when Emma showed up looking for Tink. "Hey Ruby, is Tink around?"

"She should be back any time now. Her last class is over, but she had a meeting with a student. I heard you brought sandwiches for the entire bullpen today!" Ruby answered in greeting.

Emma rested a hip on the edge of the table and picked up some of the reference material Ruby was culling, glancing over it. "Yeah, I figured that starting a day going to a funeral, everyone needed a break. I brought you one, too, so I hope you got it."

"Nope, afraid I’d already fled for my life by that time. Truth is, I'm not exactly Killian Jones's favorite person, so I decided it was best to be scarce when he's having one of his black soul days," Ruby smiled wryly.

"Damn! Well, I ordered a special turkey with sprouts on whole wheat for you. But, I think I can understand your need to get away." Emma looked at the woman. She seemed helpful, but there was something more about her, a glint in her eye that was cold and calculated, almost intense and reaching. Predatory.  It reminded Emma of August and Killian at times. "So, why aren't you Killian's favorite person?"

Ruby just laughed. "My fault, really, it was all my own fault. It's a struggle to get ahead in the police force. I had to enter from the scientist civilian side, sort of a technical support. For the longest time I was convinced, absolutely convinced, that if I could prove myself as smart, if not smarter than many of the officers, that they would overlook my physical failings and let me into the force."

Emma looked at the woman and waited for her to continue. Ruby was interesting in that she continued to do her job as she talked.

"That didn't happen,” Ruby continued, “but really, it was me grasping at straws, hoping I could change minds, make a difference. Then I met Killian Jones. He surfaced in Storybrooke about two years ago, unwashed, unkempt, bad attitude, and unruly hair. Captain Nemo would order him to get a haircut, and somehow it just never happened.”

Both women laughed at that. Killian's hair wasn’t overly long, it just looked a little overgrown sometimes. "Anyway, before I met him, I’d heard stories from other officers about him, and speculation that he would never make it here, that Nemo would cut him loose. Then he started solving cases, big cases. It was uncanny the way he could walk a scene and just know."

"What do you mean, _just know_?" Emma asked worriedly. She felt him, felt the walls he built to protect himself. A man who could live a thousand deaths for the victims he swore to protect would need those walls, need his fortitude to survive. Just like she did at times. Her walls protected her when she couldn’t.

"I don't know for sure, but I've been trying to get close enough to learn, to observe. I wish I could walk a scene with him, see what he sees. Anyway, I tried to insinuate myself into his cases, maybe too hard. I just wanted him to see me as kin, a mate, a sort of female version of himself." Ruby just shook her head sadly at her own stupidity.

"You wanted to be his partner?" Emma asked, narrowing her eyes slightly. She felt her body tensing as Ruby continued speaking.  

"Yes. I wanted him to recognize me as an equal. In trying to prove myself to him, and emulate him, I made mistakes. They weren't small mistakes either.” Ruby paused and took a drink of her lukewarm coffee. "I caused people to die, or at least one. There could've been more."

Emma frowned at the indifference in Ruby’s tone. The glint in her eyes was stronger, even more intense. It was that hardened look. A look that people get when they’ve seen too much, witnessed the misery people can bring upon others. Ruby had her own demons and milestones to overcome. _Fuck!_ Was Storybrooke becoming a sinkhole for every mentally crippled person in the world? Emma was beginning to think the small city was enveloped by some magical energy, like someone had cursed the town so no one could reach their happy ending. Okay, that was it, she was going to find a Folklore and Mythology graduate student and have them tell her the truth behind fairy tales.

"I was sort of possessive of Killian,” Ruby continued, bringing Emma back to the conversation. “I hated it when he dated women, or buddied up to other cops while continuing to ignore me. My obsession was running deep, and for a while I didn't notice how bad I had gotten. It wasn't until I went to visit my dad that I sort of woke up."

"Your dad? He was able to make you understand that you were obsessing?" Emma thanked Ruby's dad under her breath. She would hate to have to take the red-streaked brunette out for lusting after her man, but if it had to be done, it had to be done.

"Actually, yes and no. My father was my first obsession. When I was young, I hated it when he noticed any of my siblings, did things with other people, or praised them. I wanted his praise, his attention, and his total regard. I always felt that he looked at me as weak because I had asthma. He once said that if we were animals and not humans, I would have been killed by my own pack at birth because I was diseased."

Emma cringed at the lack of emotion in Ruby's voice, the void. "Oh Jesus!"

Ruby laughed bitterly. "I went home and realized that I was busting my ass to prove _him_ wrong, to show him that I wasn't a waste of time or genetic material, and that I was stronger than he ever credited me. That’s when I recognized what was going on, transference. I was transferring my need to prove myself to my father, to Killian Jones. Was it any wonder that the man was wary of me? I must have had this kind of violent, crazed look in my eyes as I sized him up like a meal." Ruby started laughing. "Just seeing my father, all old and broken, his life slowly draining away, I just knew that I had waited too long, spent too long trying to achieve my goals, to make him proud. Why? Why do children do that?"

"I don't know,” Emma said with a shrug. Technically, she had no parents to please, but she did have Ingrid, and would do anything to make her proud. “I’m sure there are some parents who would prefer for their children to just sit in a corner, look pretty, and be silent."

Ruby looked at the lively young woman whose brilliance shone through and smiled. "I can't imagine that. I can't see you as silent."

Emma looked down at her hands and said quietly. "I was once. But I discovered that sometimes, silence is louder than words."

"Perhaps. Anyway, I left home rejuvenated, released, and I guess... empowered."

"So, you’re no longer driven to prove things to Killian, to make him see you?" Emma looked at the woman, still seeing some of the raw energy that drove her.

"Of course,” Ruby laughed. “You can't change a lifetime of trained behavior overnight. Plus, I would really love to steal a piece of the power Jones has, his abilities. The difference is, I no longer do it for dear old dad. Now, I do it for me. I just want to be the best I can be, and then some."

Emma smiled, understanding what Ruby was saying, knowing that paths of self-determination were often rough roads, and Ruby was forging hers in a predominantly male workforce. "You must have a piece of the huntress in you."

Ruby laughed at that and then jumped when Tink came into the room.

Emma looked at her friend and decided to lighten the mood a little. “It could have been worse, you know,” she smiled. “You could have had all that plus been lumbered with the name Tinkerbell.”

“Hey,” Tink said, indignantly. “There is nothing wrong with my name, it’s unique.”

Emma laughed at her friend. “Of course it is,” she said, “just as you are.”

Tink shot her a narrowed-eyed look as she went to fill her coffee cup. “I don’t think I like you anymore. You can leave now.”

Emma moved from the desk, over to the door. “Don’t worry, Tink. I still believe in you.”

“I’m not a fucking fairy!” Tink shouted at Emma’s retreating form.

Emma was still laughing when she returned to the Anthropology building to finish some grading and to see her students. Mary Margaret was overseeing the museum work, so Emma felt it was safe. Mary Margaret was efficient enough for the entire group of them, and then some. Emma looked at her office and sighed. She needed to find a way to convince Mary Margaret that cleaning her office was part of her duties. Emma sat down at her desk devising ways to entrap her new friend in a cleaning frenzy.

~*~

Ruby and Tink continued to work until almost eight when Ruby needed to leave. She’d already called August twice to push back their date, so unless she wanted to cancel altogether, she needed to get going.

"Tink? Are you almost finished here?" she asked, concerned she was leaving the professor with a ton of extra work.

Tink looked at a group of articles she was reading, and the requested group coming in via email. "No, not immediately. I guess I could leave this running overnight, but to tell you the truth, I've become quite interested in the legend. This is incredible stuff. Look at this, I just found a man who has a PhD. in lost languages like Professor Geppeti, who translated a witch’s spell and potion that the warrior princess is said to have asked for. She used the potion to bestow ultimate protection and power upon herself, and her Elite Guard lover. He thinks it's the basis of the spell used in Arthurian legend, in which Morgana, or Morgan le Fey, forged Mordred's armor as he battled his father, Arthur. The armor that Mordred wore was supposed to be impervious to all weapons forged by man. So, it took Excalibur to kill him."

Ruby smiled at Tink's enthusiasm. "Well, I wish I could stay, but I really need to go."

"You should go. I know you're keeping August waiting. I promise all this will still be here tomorrow," Tink smiled encouragingly at her.

Ruby was reluctant to leave the older woman alone, to just leave her working. "Tink, how about you leave with me? Can’t you call it a night, too? I would feel so much better knowing you were home with Peter. You can leave the search and request line open, that way all information can be sent to you, and it'll all be here tomorrow."

"Ruby, don't worry. I'll be okay alone." Watching Ruby opening her mouth to protest, Tink interrupted her. "Tell you what, I'll call security and tell them I'm working late. They’ll keep an eye on me, and walk me to my car when I'm done. I promise to work only a little while longer, and then I'll go home."

"I don't know. I think this is a bad idea. It just feels wrong." Ruby saw amusement pass over Tink's face and felt silly for worrying. "Okay, okay, stop thinking the worst, right? Fine, I'm out of here, and I'll see you tomorrow."

"Kiss the delectable Detective Booth for me. Poor man, I predict you've got some inventive plans for him tonight."

Ruby picked up her stuff and on her way out, she looked back at Tink with a special glint in her eyes. "You can't even imagine. Be sure to go home!" Tink laughed and thought about what Ruby said. She should go home and see about sparking something with Peter.

~*~

When August opened the door, he was still wiping his hands on a towel. Emma and Killian had come home, changed, and the last he heard of them was the sound of the Harley taking off into the night. August hated that bike, and he loved it, too. The fact it had belonged to Neal Cassidy was enough to make him want to burn it, but the ride was a wet dream on two wheels.

After Ruby called the second time, August canceled their reservations for dinner at a nice Italian family restaurant. Emma watched him do it and suggested he either go help her at the university, or consider making dinner at the condo for her. August was surprised Emma had no problem with him wining and dining a woman in her home.

August had no doubts his fling with Ruby was a temporary thing, just a moment of pleasure, some good conversation, and wild sex. Actually, the sex was more than just a little wild. Killian had told him Ruby was asthmatic, but so far, August had barely seen any indication that she wasn't up to some strenuous exercise with little to no effect on her breathing.

The knock on the door finally came around nine o'clock. Ruby had called him when she left the university, but she said she had a special present for him and needed to change, so she stopped at her place before coming over. August had mentioned they should maybe sleep at her place, but Ruby grumbled about a roommate and that put a damper on the whole concept.

"Sorry I'm late," Ruby gushed out as she entered the condo and gave August a devilish smile. "I hope I didn't ruin dinner.

"There’s little you can do to ruin peanut butter and jelly sandwiches," August grinned, watching Ruby's eyebrow rise delicately. "Okay, actually it is cold Chinese noodles in spicy peanut sauce and a Mongolian beef salad. So, what's this present you've got for me?"

Ruby pulled two bottles from behind her back. One was a bottle of wine, and the other was a bottle of Tequila. "The wine is for dinner, and Tequila is for afterward. You're going to need fortitude to get through tonight." August laughed at the look in her eyes. That wicked twinkle was like a rush of adrenaline in his system.

Looking at Ruby, August gave a low whistle. She was a knockout, decked out in a short, tight, red leather dress, low cut, and August doubted she was wearing much under it. The large leather belt around her waist was interesting, but the identical leather straps around both wrists were equally inspiring. When she noticed him looking at them, she delicately stroked one of her wrists before leaning into him and taking his mouth in a long, hot kiss.

"I adore leather. I hope you do, too," she said huskily when they separated.

August coughed and tried to clear his throat, happy to still feel his tongue in his mouth. Okay, so this thing with Ruby was just temporary, but there was nothing wrong with wanting it to last for a while.

"Leather is good. I can handle it." August threw Ruby a challenge. "I can handle anything you want to dish out, and anything you can take."

Ruby laughed, delighted at his boldness. "I'm glad because I brought you this to wear." She tossed a smaller leather strap at him, with a definite binding clamp. August looked at it in confusion until it finally occurred to him what it was.

"Oh shit!"

~*~

Tink watched as another article came in. Quickly scanning it, she smiled. Things were beginning to click into place. This was a ritual of power, of being invincible. When the witch's potion arrived in her email box, Tink finally knew why the attacker took the blood. It was part of the ceremony. The blood of the sacrifice was used to bind the spell... _damn!_

She looked at the time, it was almost one in the morning. _Double damn!_ She quickly transferred her files to email and sent them to Emma at her personal email address. It was three editorials later when Tink finally realized what they were  missing. The artifact Marco’s murderer was looking for, and why. Tink racked her brain trying to remember if the artifact was on either the list or the requisition form.  

Once she discovered the what, it became obvious who would benefit from it. This was more than just being impervious to mortal weapons. It was about strength and agility. Tink could see how such ability would be beneficial to many people who didn't want the police too close. This could be the ultimate gift for a crime lord who wanted to be untouchable to law enforcement, or for the person who needed to feel stronger, or even to a person of power, desiring a Machiavellian control. It was the ultimate iron fist of the war gauntlet! Now all they needed was to find the person delusional enough to believe this crap could work. What a psycho!

She realized if the armor was in Professor Geppeti's possession for over two months, he could have been unknowingly working with his killer, that this unknown person could have been trying to initiate the witch's spell for a while. It couldn’t have worked, they still needed the final artifact to bring it all together. The warrior's blade, a dagger. A box popped up in the corner of her monitor, indicating another email or research return. She quickly opened the link, and read the short message. It was a return on her search of the name Eala Dhiaga.

“I’ll be damned,” she said to the empty room. “You’re gonna love this one, Professor Swan,” she continued, a smile tugging at her lips as she clicked on the compose mail button.

Tink heard a sound behind her and sighed. It was late, and the security guard was checking on her every half hour. Perhaps it was time to let him walk her out so they could finally get some rest. Turning to tell Harry his babysitting duty was over, Tink found herself staring into the eyes of a crazed murderer, and in a flash, she understood why, especially since she now knew who... and she wished she’d gone home much, much earlier, Peter was waiting...

~*~

It was six-thirty in the morning when Killian's phone rang. Quickly reaching over a sleeping Emma, he grabbed the device and cursed when he realized he’d picked up the wrong one. Putting it back on the table, he took his and rolled away from Emma to answer, while leaving his hand on her naked back.

"Jones," he answered. Killian was silent for a few moments, listening to dispatch and the information as it was relayed to him. Looking at the time, he knew Emma would be up in about an hour. "Contact Detective Nolan and tell him to pick me up. I'll contact Booth. The uniforms are to secure the site. No one, I repeat _no one_ is to enter until I get there!"

Killian hung up the phone and softly stroked Emma's back, leaning down to gently kiss the curve of her spine and a thin white line scarring the perfection. Despite marring the skin, the scars seemed to make her perfect, and so much more beautiful than it was possible to imagine. He didn't want to wake her. It was another murder on campus. The details were unknown, but campus cops called a unit and they were waiting on the scene.

Killian quickly dressed and sparing Emma one last glance, headed downstairs to wake August. Quickly making coffee, Killian went and tapped on the downstairs bedroom door. There was no answer. Using a little more force, Killian banged on the wood. It took a few minutes before he heard moaning from the other side. Finally, the door opened to a not-so-steady August, looking like about twenty miles of bad road. The room reeked of alcohol and sex, with clothes littering the floor. Killian just shook his head and motioned August to follow him.

"Dammit, Jones! This better be good!" August griped.

"We’ve got another murder on campus, as well as a security guard who was almost bludgeoned to death. They’ve already transferred him from the scene and secured the area," Killian said sharply.

August tried to focus his eyes and keep his stomach from severely pitching. Before he could comment, an equally unstable Ruby came out of his room, wearing only his shirt.

"August?" Ruby's voice sounded small and faraway. Killian looked at the two of them and realized not only had they partied together last night, but they’d apparently only hit the sack a few hours prior.

"David will be here in a few minutes, Gus. Get your shit together." Killian turned to Ruby. "Emma is asleep. I need you to stay here with her. Are you aware enough to do that?"

August left them to it, needing to stand under a shower to try to restore his equilibrium. He’d never felt this bad before from a hangover. He was dizzy, seeing double, and dry heaves were leaving him weak. It had to be the lack of sleep.

Ruby gave herself a huge mental shake and nodded to Killian. Holding her head in her hands, she moved over to stand by the coffee machine, waiting for its life-giving java to wake up her dead brain. It was the knock on the door from David that startled her awake again. David came in at Killian’s admittance, his eyes taking in Ruby's state with a look of inquiry to Killian, who just shook his head.

August returned looking not so dead, but still unsteady on his feet. For a moment, Killian considered just leaving him, but once his eyes met August's he knew it wasn't going to happen. Grabbing a to-go cup of coffee and shoving it into August’s hands, Killian helped to keep Gus upright as they departed. He never expected to see the man so incapacitated, _damn_ , he must’ve drank a shitload of booze because he still appeared intoxicated! Ruby watched them leave. Pouring herself a cup of coffee, she sat down at the breakfast bar, unable to keep her head from falling on top of her folded arms.

There were three squad cars at the university when they arrived. The CSI team and medical examiner’s cars pulled up behind David's. Killian hadn't realized he was holding his breath, and praying it wasn't the Anthropology building or museum. When he saw which building it was, he had a terrible sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Looking at August and David, he saw the same dawning horror moving across their faces. None of them spoke, hoping against hope they would be wrong.

When they made the second floor, Killian was the first to enter the cordoned office. Standing silently, surveying the scene before him, he barely heard the exclamations of David and August behind him. Walking into the room, he treaded carefully to avoid the blood and any possible footprints. Slowly squatting down, he looked into the dead eyes of Tinkerbell Nevins, Professor of History.

Closing his eyes to the horror for a moment, that hollow feeling inside crept over his skin. _Oh God!_ Killian's muscles in his jaw tensed and flexed as he tried to regain control. Ignoring the possible contamination of the site, he reached over and gently held Tink's hand for a moment, before standing to look out the office window. Just across town, a beautiful, sleeping woman was going to wake to another living nightmare.

David looked down at what remained of a once wonderfully alive woman and felt the anger growing inside. Meeting Emma and getting to know her had made this case personal, but this morning it had taken on a completely new meaning. Looking at his partner, he saw something he never thought he’d witness in this lifetime. Killian had broken the crime scene by touching the victim without gloves. The silent, tense demeanor of Killian Jones was colder than the grave. August simply walked away from the scene.

It was over an hour before the crime scene was finally processed. Unlike the scene of Professor Geppeti's murder, this room was disturbed. There were signs of a struggle indicating Tink had fought her assassin. Killian looked closely at the slice across her throat, and for signs of missing blood. This time the cut wasn't uniform though, the perpetrator had struggled to control Tink. The post-mortem etching of the symbol on Tink's breastplate was the same.

Killian looked over the scene as the CSI crew continued to gather fibers and material. "Be sure to take the computer. I want a hardcopy of all files she was working on in the last forty-eight hours." Someone acknowledged his demand with a nod and Philip, the M.E., gave Killian's shoulder a squeeze as he passed him. Philip, who had watched Killian process hundreds of crime scenes, could see the devastation in the man's eyes. When he left the scene to talk to some more of his men, he discreetly called Dak Nemo.

"This isn't your fault, Killian."

Killian didn't even bother to acknowledge David's reassurance. It _was_ his fault. He had asked Tink to help with the case, to find him the information he needed. Somehow, he, along with the rest of the investigation team, had left Tink unprotected. They spent endless hours watching over Emma, but they included Tink in the investigation and never even considered she might become a target.

David closed his eyes and listened, hating every second of it, as Killian began to do what he did best; slowly rebuilt the scene in an emotionless and expressionless voice. "The unsub entered the office behind her. They were quiet, trying to use surprise to subdue. This scene is different. Geppeti was waiting for his killer, he knew it was coming, so there was no need for caution. This time it was important to have surprise on their side. Tink was a strong, healthy woman. She wasn't a frail, old man at the end of his life. There was a struggle. Tink turned and saw her killer, pushed her chair back against the unsub almost toppling them over, but the chair fell to the side." David noticed the chair on the ground beside the victim.

"Her hands came up to grab her assailant by the arms,” Killian continued, “as one hand covered her mouth and pulled her neck upward to expose more area for the blade. This time they were barely able to get the blood. Everything here indicated a tale of rush and near panic, it was messy. The unsub was struggling in some way."

"How do you know she grabbed at the perp's arms?" David asked, looking at the scene, trying to find what Killian saw and he’d missed. He didn't notice August watching Killian closely, seeing the faraway look Killian got when he was processing a crime scene in his mind. August had heard rumors about Killian Jones and his way of recreating a scene that was shockingly accurate, just from a glance.

August answered for Killian. "Her nails are broken and there are material fibers under them. Like she reached up behind her and tried to pull the arms away."

Killian nodded. "The perp will have bruising on their arms from Tink’s fingers, but the fibers under the nail suggest long sleeves, and more than likely no skin or hair remains." Killian moved around the scene and squatted once again by the body, examining the bloodstains.

"She was moved more than once. Look at the pattern of the blood. The unsub was struggling to maintain control, struggling with something, maybe fatigue. They dragged Tink back with them, and when the weight became too heavy, they pushed her forward, letting her drop. The blood on the floor behind Tink is smudged, but it looks like the perp stopped there for a moment, struggling for something-maybe calmness-to finish the task or to breathe." Killian pointed to bloodstains lighter in color than those around Tink’s body, as if something had covered that area for a time, and was then removed. It was round, like the bottom of a bottle, perhaps what the killer collected the blood in. "Then they were forced to roll Tink so the etching could be done." Killian pointed to the movement of prints in the blood. "I wouldn't be surprised if the struggle and the perp’s need to regain control, cost them in time, so much so that they were unable to remove the same amount of blood as they did with Geppeti."

August moved closer to look at the sweeping marks on the floor, confused by the patterns. "What are those?"

Killian’s voice was devoid of emotion. "The killer stepped in the blood this time., then used the leg of Tink’s pants to wipe away any obvious imprint. After they collected what blood they could, they removed their shoes and used Tink's clothes to wipe off the blood on the soles." Killian pointed to the light swipes of blood on her clothes. "Then they carried their shoes out, being careful not to step in more blood or leave prints along the way."

Philip came over and squeezed Killian's shoulder again to get his attention. Killian looked up at him and asked, "You done with the body for now?"

Philip nodded. His boys had already photographed and closed the hands and feet with protective bags; the rest would have to wait for the lab. Killian sighed and reached over to gently close Tink's now lifeless eyes. His hand paused over her before he stood and walked away.

~*~

Emma woke slowly to the smell of coffee. Stretching out her arm, she was surprised to find the bed empty. Killian was already gone. Getting up and showering, Emma finally made it downstairs, pouring herself a cup of coffee. Sounds from August's room caught her attention and she sauntered over. Cautiously standing in the doorway, she could hear someone retching in the bathroom. She inched her way through August’s room, gingerly stepping over discarded clothing, and found a not-so-stable Ruby washing her face.

"You okay?" Emma asked softly.

Ruby looked in the mirror at Emma and nodded.

"You don't look great. Need anything?"

"Thanks Emma, but no. I just drank too much last night, and only had about two hours of sleep on top of it," Ruby smiled wryly, still nauseated.

"Maybe you should go back to bed," Emma suggested. Ruby just shook her head and continued to wash her face. Emma turned away, her gaze roaming the wrecked room. August's and Ruby’s clothes were tossed in all directions, two empty bottles of wine, an empty bottle of tequila, and the unmade bed. "Where's Gus?" she asked distractedly, the aroma of stale alcohol strong. Seeing the remains of an obviously wild night, Emma couldn't imagine August was in any better condition than Ruby was.

"He had to go to work," Ruby answered, avoiding Emma's eyes. Knowing she was going to ask more questions, and quickly headed her off, "Do you mind if I take a shower? I think it will help."

"Oh no, please go ahead. I'll just go make more coffee. Strong." Emma left the room and Ruby pulled the bathroom door shut. She stood in front of the mirror, looking at her own reflection with stone cold dry eyes. Today was going to be a bad day.

By the time they made it to the university, Emma was frowning, sneaking glances at Ruby. The woman was too quiet. Even with a hangover and being sick, total silence seemed unnatural for Ruby. Emma felt her heart stop at the sight of emergency vehicles and police officers directing traffic away from the staff parking lot that was shared by the Anthropology, History, and English buildings. Finding a parking spot over by the museum, Emma was out of the Bug as soon as she slammed it in park. Ruby quickly jumped out too, calling to Emma.

"Emma! No! Wait!" Ruby raced after Emma, cursing her lungs as they contracted laboriously. She fumbled in her pockets, trying to find her inhaler as she stumbled to catch up to Emma. She was still wrecked from last night’s activities, and running after Emma wasn’t helping.

Emma ignored Ruby, pushing her way through the crowd. Seeing Dak Nemo on the sidewalk talking to a man, she ducked under the police tape, eluding the officer keeping the crowd back. Rushing into the building, she raced up the stairs to the second floor. At the top of the stairs, she came to a dead stop.

The presence of Killian down the hall did little to stop the dread building within her and she looked at him pleadingly. He didn't see her at first, but seemed to sense her presence. Turning, his eyes met hers, and for a frozen eternity their glances locked, and Emma knew. At that moment, a stretcher with a body bag came out of Tink's office and Emma’s hand connected with the wall to help balance herself. _Oh God, no! Tink!_ Killian's face, the stiffness of his body, and the deadly quiet of his eyes confirmed her worst nightmare.

Killian cursed under his breath. He should've called, had Ruby keep Emma away, but the time had escaped him. He watched her helplessly as her arms came up to hold her head. She was shaking her head no, as if pure denial could make it untrue, then suddenly she turned and ran back down the steps. Killian pushed people out of his way and ran after her. "Emma!"

When he made it down the stairs and outside, he saw Nemo rushing towards him, and a struggling Ruby bringing up the rear. Ruby was leaning up against a uniformed officer, trying to get her asthma under control, puffing on her inhaler. She was looking a little blue and strained.

"Which way did she go?" Killian demanded. When Dak pointed towards the Anthropology building, Killian spared a glance at the incapacitated Ruby and nodded for Nemo to take care of her before running across the parking lot, not noticing both August and David following him. They entered the building and quickly ran to Emma's office. There was no answer. David went to find the secretary while Killian paced in front of the door, cursing non-stop. August was swearing, too, and searching his clothes for a cigarette he knew he didn't have.

They opened her office door with the secretary's help, but it was empty. Looking at the other two men, Killian began to search the building while August took off for the museum and David went out to question people who might have seen which direction Emma had taken. After an hour, they’d exhausted all possible search areas, including calling the condo, and checking with friends. David called the Nemo home to let Liam and Belle know Emma was missing and tell them about Tink Nevins. The hospital had discharged Liam and Belle into Dak Nemo’s care just that morning, so they staffed the phones there and waited, hoping Emma would come home soon.

By noon, the skies had darkened it was raining, and still no Emma. Dak put out a BOLO for her, while Killian frowned at the parked Bug in front of the museum, wondering just how far she could have gone without her car. Both he and David set off to her condo to see if Emma had gone home and just wasn't answering the phone. It was empty, beyond still, and so they went back to the station to see if anyone had located her. Tink's boyfriend Peter had been brought in for standard questioning.

Killian stood in the darkened room, watching Peter from the two-way mirror, the man was devastated. The officers were trying to be as delicate while as possible working with him. The compassion Killian felt as he watched the crying man lift a shaking hand holding his coffee, was immeasurable. He tried not to imagine how he would act if he were in the same situation. That very thought brought Killian back to a missing Emma, he left the room as silently as he came.

They spent the afternoon in the bullpen filling out their paperwork, waiting for preliminary reports, making phone calls, all the while hoping to hear someone had found Emma. Killian had a list of possible places she may have disappeared to, but so far none had checked out. August finally took off to go stake out the condo in case she returned, and after six o'clock, Nemo sent both David and Killian home for the night.

"Do you want me to take you over to Emma’s?" David asked, worried by Killian’s silence. Since they found Tink's body, Killian had barely spoken, and after Emma took off, he had stopped talking altogether unless on the phone or addressed directly.

"No. Drop me at my place. I need to get some stuff and make a few more phone calls. There were some people on the list August and her secretary gave us that weren’t home when I called earlier. Maybe they are now." Killian looked out his window to watch the town pass by, hating the pouring rain that had continued all day. A dreary day, matching his dark soul.

He was on the phone when the tapping on his door came. Thinking it was Regina, Killian reluctantly walked over to open it. He wasn't in the mood to deal with her tonight, but there was a part of him that couldn't just ignore her. Opening the door, he was stunned at the sight of a soaked Emma on his doorstep.

"Thank god!" Pulling her inside and hugging her close, he could feel the tremors. He couldn’t say if they were coming from his body or hers, perhaps both. Swearing harshly, Killian moved her quickly over to his sofa, grabbing the throw blanket off the back of it and draping it around her, trying to rub warmth back in her body. "Where the bloody hell have you been?!" Killian shook her, letting relief turn to anger until he saw her face. She was pale and wet; her lips were trembling, and her eyes seemed to dominate her face. Swearing even more, he pulled her back into his arms. "God, Emma! I've been worried sick. We put out a BOLO, checked all your friends, students, colleagues, and hospitals. Bloody hell! I checked the fucking morgue, twice!"

"Sorry."

Killian sighed at her small voice, hating the empty, unaffected tone. He was all too familiar with that tone.

"God, love, you're freezing. Let’s get you out of these clothes and dried. I have a pair of pants you can borrow."

"If I can fit in your pants, I'll kill myself." Though her voice was weak, Killian smiled at that, still holding her close. He needed to call everyone and cancel the BOLO, but first he just needed to hold her, to reassure himself she was safe.

"Emma..." Killian never finished what he was going to say. Emma pulled back from him. He looked at her in confusion as she took off the blanket and handed it back to him. Watching her trembling hand move up to push her wet hair off her face, Killian didn't know what to say. When she spoke, he could feel dread rising with nausea from the pit of his stomach. Her voice was impersonal and remote.

"It's over."

He just looked at her confused.

"This thing, whatever it is... between us. It's over."

"Emma..." Killian looked at her in disbelief, shaking his head, trying to tell himself she was just in shock.

"No! I want you out of my life, right now!" Emma moved back from him physically, but her words had already pushed them far apart. "I want you to stay away from me, far away. Just… stay away!"

Before Killian could move or even say a word, she turned and left, closing the door quietly behind her. Killian stood holding the wet blanket in his hands, staring at the closed door. Too shocked to move, too stunned to feel, he just stood there.

Two seconds later, he bolted into the bathroom and crashed to his knees, heaving the remains of his long-ago lunch into the bowl. He shuddered as dry heaves wracked through him a few moments longer, until finally his gut was empty and he was too tired for more. Long minutes later, he climbed to his feet, flushed the toilet, then rinsed out his mouth and brushed his teeth.

Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he didn't recognize himself. The face looking back at him was stoic, almost, lifeless... empty. Slowly moving to the kitchen, Killian fixed himself a cup of coffee, refusing to think or even process what had just happened. As he raised the cup to take a drink, his hand started to shake. Appalled, he threw the cup against the wall and watched the dark liquid slowly drip down the wall, streaking it. Sweeping up his jacket, Killian was out the door, slamming it behind him.

~*~

 


	10. Coming Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are really awesome. 
> 
> Your comments make me so happy, I can't really express how much I love it when I get an alert to say I have a comment. It makes all the hard work writing and creating something new for this awesome characters worthwhile. I hope you continue to enjoy my writing. 
> 
> As always, ilovemesomekillianjones is the best beta and really helped make this the success it is.
> 
> No chapter warning for this one, so sit back and enjoy...

**Chapter 10: Coming Home**

Regina watched David as he frantically made calls, searching for the infamous Emma who was apparently missing. She couldn't understand what was so great about this woman that she literally had an entire town on full alert looking for her! But she worried as she looked at David. He looked terrible, almost gray beneath his usual coloring. _Oh, god! It dawned on_ Regina that David had feelings for this Emma, too. Realizing her brother was too busy to respond to the slow knock at the door, Regina went to answer it. Her gasp drew David's attention and he quickly disconnected as Killian entered the room.

"Killian?" The look on Killian’s face terrified David. An expression he hadn't seen since the night Liam Jones died in Killian's arms. "Oh God, don't tell me it's Emma?" David didn't think he could stand to hear something bad had happened to her, and he sure as hell knew Killian couldn't take it.

"She left me,” was Killian’s emotionless reply.

Both Regina and David stared at him, shocked by the hollow, hopeless sound of his voice.

"What? I don't understand. What do you-" David never finished as Killian's angry voice seemed to explode from him, his eyes flashing, his body jerking angrily around as he started to pace wildly in front of them, gesturing and ranting.

"What's not to understand, mate?! She bloody LEFT, threw in the towel, gave up! Just like that. All sodding day I'm searching for her, and she calmly comes to my door and tells me it's over. BLOODY OVER!"

"Why?" David couldn't comprehend it. True, they’d just met, but there was no way, _no way_ they were anywhere near finished.

"Why? Why?! Because... because she doesn't want me bloody well near her, with her. She wants me as far the hell away from her as bloody possible. Every fucking person she knows is slowly being assassinated, murdered, and she is the only bloody connection we can find. Why? Why the bloody fuck NOT?!" Killian was pushing his hands angrily through his hair not even noticing the stunned, shocked looks on both Regina and David's faces.

"No wonder she thinks she's bloody cursed. Look at her fucking life! Her boyfriend was sliced and diced by a sadistic, psychotic fuck in front of her, and now one of her best friends was murdered by a rampant killer... everyone she loves or knows pays dearly to be near her... they pay with their bloody lives." Killian’s ranting kept getting louder and louder. "No wonder she thinks God has forsaken her, that she’s bloody cursed…”

Killian suddenly stopped, his own words hit him, slowly sinking into that part of his brain that could still think and process simple concepts. "Shit! Stupid, stupid... bloody stupid!" He felt the anger draining as awareness hit him, and that hollow, empty feeling came back briefly before shifting again, this time to self-hatred and loathing. "Fuck me! I'm the stupidest son of a bitch ever to be born!" Killian didn't even say goodbye, he just left, hurrying out of the Nolan's apartment at full speed.

Regina and David just looked at the closed door in wonder. Killian Jones, the one who was untouchable, immovable had broken down, letting emotions run from him in fast furious waves. He, who had no remorse, had finally become animated, become alive. He was feeling, and every breath was painful.

Regina turned to look at her brother, as if her entire world as she understood it had just been turned upside down. "What just happened?”

David shook his head. "I have no idea."

~*~

Killian didn't even bother to knock, letting himself in through the garage using his access code. August was surprised to see his sudden appearance. He had been calling Killian’s apartment to let him know Emma had come home.

"Killian, I was just-"

"Is she here?" Killian interrupted, heated anger radiating from him.

August frowned at Killian's tone, not liking the deep and furious timber of it. "Yeah, she’s upstairs taking a bath. Killian, what the hell is-"

Killian just interrupted again. "Gus, leave."

"What?"

"I said leave, mate. You need to find another place to stay tonight." Killian reached into his pocket and removed a key from his set. "Here, go stay at my place."

"I'm not going anywhere," August said as he caught the key that Killian tossed him. "Not until you tell me-"

"I'm telling you, you don't want to be here tonight. It could get ugly. So my advice is to leave, now!"

August looked at the expression on Killian's face, and remembering the look on Emma's when she walked in the door, he made one of the most important decisions of his life. He decided to walk away, to let Killian take care of Emma. Nodding his head, he grabbed his jacket and left the condo.

Killian followed August to the door and locked it once it closed behind him. Looking upstairs to the quiet room he took off his own jacket, tossed it on the sofa and took the stairs two at a time.

He stood next to the tub, watching her. She sat in the hot water with her knees drawn up to her chin, her body shaking. She looked over at him with dead eyes and Killian bit back his curse, calmly sitting on the tiled area next to the bath.

"Why are you here?"

Killian hated how detached her voice sounded.

"I told you it's over."

"I heard you, and I gave you your say. Now it's my turn, love."

"Killian..." She could feel the weariness settling deep in her bones as she started to shake apart again.

"You can toss me out of your life, and your bed, fine!" Killian raised his voice, blowing all his anger management classes to hell. Sometimes things were too important, you had to get angry and stay that way, if you wanted to win! "But if you think I'm going to leave you alone, stay away from you, you couldn't be more wrong, _darling_. I'm here to stay. If, and I mean, _if_ you try to kick me out of your home, I'll have you put into protective custody so quickly you'll be reeling from the speed!"

"I can't have you near-"

"You’ve no argument. My job is to protect you! So whether you want to know me or not, is irrelevant." Killian moved closer, picking up a loofah he squirted some flowery goo onto it and slowly washed her back. "So, if you're pushing me away to protect me because you think you're bloody cursed, don't!"

"You don't understand. I can't have you near me. God help me, Killian, if something happens to you because of me, if you're hurt or harmed..."

"I'm not going anywhere, love, and you know what? Today, I decided I don't believe in curses. A curse can only have power over you if you let it." Killian put away the sponge and grabbed a towel off the heating bar. Reaching down, he lifted her out of the bath, wrapped her in the towel and settled her on his lap. "Are you going to let this fucker beat you? Bring you down, break you? Are you going to yield?"

He could feel her, feel the stiffening of her back, the harsh panting of her breath from her lungs as she found what she had lost in despair. "Never!"

"I should spank you for what you bloody put me through today, lass, but my body can't take the abuse of you fighting back, or liking it too much." Killian pulled away from her, shaking her gently, and looked into her stormy eyes, his own equally wild. "Don't ever do that to me again! You can drop my worthless arse for any number of reasons women find to walk away, but not because you're trying to protect me!"

Emma's slim arms came up to encircle his neck, hugging him close, letting him feel the wracking sobs inside her body. Her whispers were almost too low to hear, and she had to fight to get the words out. "I'm sorry, Killian. I'm so sorry! I just can't... I feel, too much... if you... if anything happens to you… I just, I can’t lose you too."

"Shh, nothing is going to happen to me. I’m a survivor, love."

"Big words!" Emma scoffed, rubbing her face into his neck and resting against his shoulder. "What took you so long? An _entire hour_ I was alone without you."

"Sorry, I stopped at David's along the way." Killian pulled her face from his shoulder, framed it between his hands and looked into her eyes again.  He was suddenly overcome by the pain and fear that he could’ve lost her, he pulled her to him, passionately devouring her mouth, kissing her hard, willing her to feel just how deeply she affected him.  

Emma moaned into his mouth tightening her arms around his neck as his hands moved down her body. Ignoring the falling towel, she held her body tight to his, her hands gripped him hard, pulling him back into the kiss when he would have pulled away to breathe.

Fear. Emma scared him on so many levels he couldn't begin to describe them or even name them. However, he wasn't alone. She was running afraid, too, unbalanced by him, feeling more than she wanted. He didn't care any longer, his fears didn't matter anymore, because all the anxiety he had over his relationship with her, and trying to understand what the hell she did to him, didn't matter anymore. Not after tonight. Tonight, he’d stood immobilized and bereft as he watched her walk out of his life, and it had hit him, that was a fear stronger than all the rest. The fear of losing her forever.

Maybe someday, he would to tell her, when she was ready to hear it. For now, it was enough just to hold her, feel her against him. He could sense the pain in her, the shaking of her body, her tears so deep and buried inside that she couldn't find a way to release them. The sadness in her voice made his throat feel dry, reminded him of what they lost today.

"I lost Tink. My best friend."

He closed his eyes to the hollow, empty sound of her voice that duplicated exactly how he felt when she walked out his door earlier. “I know."

~*~

August let himself back into the condo early the next morning since he had taken off to Killian's place without even a change of clothes. It was strange, but a day later and he still felt physically ill from his night with Ruby. Waking up this morning, he’d stared at himself in the mirror and realized his past health problems were more than likely catching up with him. He didn't have time to go to the doctor, and he couldn’t just take time off from the stress, but he was damn sure not going to let an old ulcer knock him off this investigation. His drinking and partying had affected him this way before, but it had been years ago. August was unwilling to back away from the front lines of this case. Letting his body beat him was not an option. So, if he had to stop drinking and partying, or even give up sex with a little light bondage added to the mix, he would.

Ruby was quite the girl, definitely a ballbuster, but August couldn't complain. She let him keep the leather cock ring as a gift. What bothered August the most was, despite the damage they’d done to each other that night, most of it had been over too fast. But hell, it didn't matter because what he did remember seemed completely worth the ride. The hangover was the downside, but drinking a bottle of Tequila while having sex until four in the morning was hardly an advertisement for good health. August couldn't forgive himself for being _tied up_ when Tink had died. Shaking away the remorse, all he could do now was make sure Tink was given justice. Several things had become clear as August had stared at his reflection in the mirror. One, it was time for him to get his ulcer under control, which meant acting like a responsible adult, at least for now. And two he needed to get himself out of Emma’s too comfortable apartment and find his own place.

Now Jones's place? That was a great apartment, perhaps a little sparse in decoration, but still nice and roomy. The bed was another bonus. A California king with a memory-foam mattress. August would have preferred if Killian had changed the sheets, but with some intense searching, he finally found a clean set. The only thing that confused August was the kitchen, nothing but canned soup and canned mackerel in the cupboards.

The freezer had August the most confused. He’d found a bottle of twenty-year old malt scotch, an expensive brand and since they’d ousted him from his own bed - okay technically Emma's spare bed, he helped himself to a glass. When he went to get ice cubes, hoping Jones at least made ice, August stood in amazement in front of the freezer. _There were too many to count._ Nothing else was in the freakin' freezer except ice trays! Filled ice trays! Wall to wall! August was now certain Jones wasn't playing with a full deck If nothing else, the man had ice tray issues.

Once inside the condo, he was surprised to see Killian and Emma asleep on the couch with a fire burning low in the fireplace. Emma was sprawled on top of Killian, with the cat curled up on her ass. August attempted to walk past them without waking them, so he could get dressed for the day, but before he could, the sound of the front door opening startled him.

Turning quickly and reaching for his gun, August froze in horror at the sight of Ingrid entering. "August! sweetie, help me get my bags." She went back outside but he could hear her voice. "You should've seen these cute, sweet bears coming into the city because they had nothing to eat..."

Before August could follow, Ingrid was back. "August, honey, aren't you going to help me?" Ingrid's gaze moved past August where she saw her beautiful daughter sound asleep. Her beautiful daughter who was obviously naked under the blanket that barely covered her and the large man she was laying on top of, the man whose hand almost spanned her daughter's naked back as he held her close. "What the hell is going-"

August grabbed Ingrid, putting a hand over her mouth before her voice rose and woke the sleeping couple. Pulling her outside into the garden, he quietly closed the glass door, and released her.

"What is that man doing sleeping with my child? Who the hell is he?" Ingrid demanded, her eyes blazing at August. "Did you run a security check on him? Did Dak investigate him? Maybe he's a deviant! Maybe he's-"

"A _cop_ , Ingrid, he's a cop! One of Dak's finest."

Ingrid stopped talking and looked back through the glass at her foster daughter and the _PIG._ What was going on?

Ingrid shook her head. "You were supposed to protect her! You were _supposed_ to keep her out of trouble! I'm gone only eight days and this is what happens." Ingrid looked at August and then at Emma. "How long? When?"

"About nine days ago." August stepped back from his foster mother before he became a victim of her wild gesticulating.

Ingrid was in a full rant. Sure, she wanted Emma to be happy and secure. Loved even. But, a _cop!_ They were notoriously bad husband material, except of course her wonderful Dak... okay and maybe Liam... and well, August was lovely too...but no! Cops ignored their wives, had chronically high stress levels, were known for substance abuse, and they maintained one of the worse divorce rates of any career! What scared Ingrid was how dangerous their jobs were, how easy it would be to kiss them goodbye one morning and never see them again. She wanted more for Emma, something safer.

Ingrid finally quieted when she noticed how pale and sick August looked. "What is wrong with you, Gus? You look sick, sweetie."

"Long wild night, followed by an atrocious day that seemed to drag on forever, concluded by being kicked outta here last night to sleep at Killian's place." Ingrid's head shook, not recognizing the name Killian until August calmly pointed through the glass at the sleeping man. August hoped to distract Ingrid with Killian before she remembered his ulcer. Having Ingrid call Captain Nemo and getting him kicked off this case didn't sit well with him.

"You don't look well. Maybe you should go back to bed, take the day off, honey," Ingrid fussed, reaching out to press the back of her hand to his forehead. Spying a mark low on his neck, she paused, "What is that?"

August's hand went up to cover his neck where Ruby had left a large mark, looking at Ingrid in fear. _Shit_ , she was going to ask.

"You, too? Just suddenly out of the blue you’re seeing someone?" Ingrid swore under her breath knowing that this was all her fault. She should have stayed home to watch over her young cubs instead of going to save other young cubs, even if the ones she had rescued had been real cubs. Ingrid just prayed August's woman kept her clothes on for a living… for once. But the elusive look in August's eyes told her that she wasn't going to like it. "What? _What?_ No! Don't tell me she's a cop too! Or is it a he?"

"Technically, Ruby isn't a cop. She's a forensic-" August never finished the sentence.

"In the name of all that's holy! What's going on?" This was her fault, but she guessed she’d started it with Dak. Looking through the glass at Emma, snuggled on the larger body with her hand curled on his chest as her head rested on his heart, Ingrid decided to first find out all she could. Dammit! Did they have to look so beautiful together, so at peace?

"Okay, give it to me straight. What are we talking about here? How serious?"

"Ingrid, come on, why don’t you ask Emma?"

"August! Just tell me!"

August sighed and gave into her. What else was new? Ingrid Arden always got her way. "He owns a 1967 Shelby GT500 Mustang Classic that needs lots of work. She's going to help him rebuild it. It's in the garage."

Ingrid grasped her breast in alarm. _No!_

But August wasn't through, "She took him for a ride in the GTO."

Ingrid struggled to breathe. She was having a heart attack, she was sure of it! Then August dealt the lethal blow.

"I think she'll eventually let him drive it."

Ingrid stumbled backwards with a hand over her mouth, falling into one of the garden chairs. All this in _nine_ days? A _cop_? Oh, god, they were like gangsters with badges. Ingrid rubbed her head as the tension increased like a band across her forehead. August watched Ingrid process this news, and knew she was going to want details. Details he absolutely did not want to give. If Ingrid knew Emma was in danger, all hell would break loose. Searching his brain for something... anything, August tossed a barricade into the path of destruction.

"There's more. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for days." August went over to put a hand on Ingrid’s shoulder, and looking at her with his most stoic expression, he pulled out the big guns. "Ingrid, Liam was shot."

August watched the door shut behind Ingrid as she rushed off to tend to her other foundling. It was surprising Killian and Emma hadn't stirred through the entire ordeal. They must be tired, exhausted. August pulled his cell from his back pocket as he headed to his room to make the call. It was still early, barely seven. The phone rang a few times before he heard Liam's sleepy greeting.

"Liam, it's Gus."

Liam scratched his stomach above his boxers and gingerly turned over in his bed trying to avoid jarring his shoulder. "Hey, Gus, Dad's in the shower-"

"Shut up, Liam, and listen. Ingrid's back and she's on her way over. As in right now!" August heard violent cursing as Liam sat up too quickly and pulled at his stitches. "She doesn't know about the murders or Emma. I distracted her with you, so do something. And quick!"

Liam didn't even say goodbye, disconnecting the call and moving as fast as he was able. Rushing into the guestroom, he quickly woke Belle, too distracted to notice how beautiful she looked when she first woke up. "Belle, Belle! Wake up!"

"Liam? What's wrong? Is it your shoulder?"

Liam stopped her question with the one thing that struck terror in the hearts of most rational thinking people of Storybrooke.

"Ingrid Arden is home, and on her way over."

Belle scrambled out of bed. "Oh God, does she know about Emma? Get your dad, I'll start dumping the food." Belle moved for the door and looked back at Liam. "Get the file!"

Liam stumbled on his way out of the office with a large file of clippings and articles, flipping through them at breakneck speed. Entering the steam-filled bathroom, he ignored his dad's shout of ‘Get out, it's occupied!’ and served his dad a deadly blow.

"Dad. Dad! DAD! Ingrid's home and she is on her way over!"

Dak's head came out from behind the shower curtain, his head covered in soap suds with a look of horror on his face. Cursing loudly, Dak grabbed a towel.

"Dammit, not now! Liam dump the food, trash the living room, and get the damn file," he ordered.

"Belle is emptying the kitchen as we speak. I have the file, and I'll go toss the living room, but you need to toss clothes into the dirty laundry." Liam left his dad still sputtering. They had just done the laundry yesterday.

When Liam made it to the living room, he noticed Belle had trashed the kitchen, dumped the food, and was now trying to empty the garbage. "Belle, don't try to lift that garbage bag, you'll rip your stitches," Liam said as he moved to do it for her, but she pointedly looked at his shoulder still in a sling. They both grabbed a part of the bag and struggled to dump all the food in the house into the trashcan outside.

"Did you get the freezer, too?" Belle nodded at his question as they both struggled to lift the heavy bag. "Belle, the chicken? All the frozen chicken?"

"Dammit yes!" Belle felt like her back was on fire and he was quizzing her? She’d lived through a year of dealing with Ingrid Arden. She knew the drill. By the time they got back into the house, both were sweating and in pain, the color drained from their faces. Dak was standing at the kitchen table, flipping through the file frantically in his bathrobe, soap suds still on his head.

"Deforestation of natural pine stands in the Northern Forest?" Dak asked them.

Liam shook his head. "Hunters with guns."

Belle grabbed one. "Dumping of industrial chemicals in the headwaters of the Mississippi?" Both men looked at her with horror in their eyes. Ingrid and chemicals, was she insane?

"Whaling ships illegally hunting the humpbacks to extinction?" Liam tried.

Dak just shook his head. "She fell overboard the last time she was on a ship." They all shook their heads remembering that.

"Salinization of the groundwater and water tables in Kansas in watershed areas due to excessive fertilization and crop dusting?" They all looked at each other and shook their heads. Ingrid and crop dusting planes just sounded wrong. Belle tossed the article and grabbed another one.

"Dispute in the Boundary Waters area of Quetico over canoes versus motorboats?" Dak took the article from Liam and tore it up. What was he thinking? Ingrid in the wilderness of Canada, in a canoe, facing down an angry speedboat owner with a gun?

Belle found one. "How about a dispute in a southern Oklahoma wildlife refuge? The Refuge had to deny rock climbers the privilege of scaling the mountains in the reserve, because they were disturbing and destroying the nesting grounds of an endangered bird. The climbers are protesting and there is a council meeting between the Wildlife Park Service and the climbers."

Dak grabbed the article from Belle and scanned it. This was the one. Harmless, she would be safe, and it was far, far away from Storybrooke, and the state of Maine, as well as its unknown killer. A murderer in Storybrooke and Ingrid Arden around, combined with the kismetic nature of the universe, they would find each other.

The knock at the door made them all freeze in fright, then in a flurry of activity they took off in different directions. Belle tried to return to her room to hide, but Liam caught her before she could. Dak took the file of clippings and stashed it into his office before going to finish his shower. Liam pushed Belle to answer the door while he leaned up against the wall. Ingrid must have left her house key at her place.

"Belle?" Ingrid rushed in past the young girl. "What are you doing here, honey? Where’s Liam?" Before Belle could say a word, Ingrid spied Liam leaning against the wall with his right arm in a sling; he was all sweaty, obviously in pain, and deathly pale. He was just standing there all vulnerable and unkempt in his boxers, looking like a lost little boy.

"Ingrid?" Liam's voice came out low and almost lost. Belle looked at him in shock. _God, he was good!_

"Aw, sweetie!" Rushing to his side, Ingrid helped him over to a seat on the sofa. Smiling at his ‘sort of stepmom’, Liam let Ingrid mother-hen him while cursing August Booth under his breath. "Does it hurt? Are you okay? Did they find the animal that did this to you?" Ingrid was running her hands over his face and looking at his bandage closely. "Oh goodness, you feel warm! Maybe you have a fever." Ingrid called to Belle over her shoulder. "Belle....Belle get him some water. I think he needs some pain medication."

Ingrid looked over at Belle and her eyes narrowed as she took in the girl's pale features, the pain lining her face, and the way her body was trembling. Ingrid quickly went to her and dragged her over to sit next to Liam.

"What's wrong with you, Belle? Are you okay?" Ingrid looked at the two of them and knew Liam's injury was probably hard on Belle in lieu of what happened to Greyson, but this looked like more.

Belle smiled weakly and just nodded. "I’m okay, Ms. Arden. I just had a..."

Liam looked at her sharply. Belle narrowed her eyes at him, wanting to tell him off. Of course she wasn't going to tell the truth! "A kidney biopsy a day ago,” she continued, “and the area in my back hasn't healed yet. I think I was a little too zealous when I got up this morning. I'm here convalescing with Liam."

Ingrid looked around the room and saw the disorder, and then back at the two young people obviously in need of some major tender loving care. _What the hell was Dak thinking?_ "Where is your father?" Ingrid asked Liam in a demanding voice.

 _Oh boy, poor dad_. Liam felt for his father. "He's showering for work."

"Uh huh, I see,” Ingrid said, her voice maintaining a hard edge. Then she looked at them and her voice softened and became loving again. "I want both of you to sit back and rest while I go see to things," she instructed. Ingrid left them looking at each other while she went to find her fiancée.

"Ingrid!" Dak tried to make his voice warm and inviting, surprised to see his future wife.

"Scumbag!" she spat out.

Dak winced, knowing he was going to take the brunt of Ingrid's displeasure.

"Why didn't you call me? Look at this place. It looks like a disaster, and my son in there with a hole in his arm, being looked after by a young girl who needs to be in bed herself. Dak, what were you thinking? I swear," Ingrid went over and smacked him across his upper arm, "and don't think that I don't know about Emma."

Dak had a moment of pure unadulterated fear. How could she know? August Booth was in _major_ trouble.

"Sleeping with a cop!" she continued, not seeing Dak sigh a breath of relief. "One of your men! I wanted her away from violence and pain, and you let one of your men just cozy up to her in less than nine days! Good God! I've only been gone for eight days and everything has gone to hell in a handbasket!" Ingrid ignored the fact that eight days ago, she’d fled Storybrooke to prevent Emma from finding a way to foist August on her. She loved her other foster child as much as she did Emma and Liam, but that boy was certainly not roommate material.

Belle and Liam sat in the living room feeling immense sympathy for Dak, but no one wanted to even mention why and how Emma met Killian Jones. Therefore, they all just sat back and took it.

"Now Ingrid, Killian Jones is one of my best men," Dak said, trying to assure his future wife.

"Oh, is that his name?" Ingrid just continued with her rant until Dak felt she was finally winding down, since she was beginning to repeat herself. He calmly went over, grabbed her up close, and kissed her.

Pulling away from a breathless and, for once, peacefully quiet Ingrid, Dak smiled. "Thank God you're finally home, honey! This place is a wreck. There is no food in the house and with Liam down, one officer dead, and the other in the hospital paralyzed, I am terribly understaffed, overworked, and overstressed. I need you to help me out with things the way only you can." Dak watched Ingrid's face lighten and then take on a look of dedication. Ingrid Arden had a weakness for being needed, and a strong healthy determination to make everything pleasant in the lives of the people she loved.

"You need me?" Ingrid repeated, pleased by the look in his eyes, the way he was holding her tight.

"Absolutely! I need my life partner to help me with all these damn kids. They're out of control. Dammit, Ingrid, your cell kept going to voicemail, I had no way to contact you."

Ingrid did feel a little ashamed about that. She was sort of moving around and didn't have her cell on, plus she had been trying to avoid Emma calling to bitch about August.

"I've got Emma calling me early in the morning two days after she met Killian Jones, wanting to know what time she should set the alarm so he wouldn't be late for work..."

Ingrid's brow went up at that! Less than two days? _Oh crap_ , this didn't look good at all.

"…Liam running out in the middle of a shootout to save a downed officer and taking a bullet in his shoulder. August temporarily assigned to Major Crimes to help with my manpower shortage, except he seems intent on charming every woman within a thirty-mile radius. In addition, my best detective is sitting around, either talking on the phone to your daughter or staring off into space. I heard rumors about them in an interrogation room! I can hardly get a lick of work done between the lot of them, and then Belle needed somewhere to stay so someone could keep an eye on her, too."

"Oh! My poor baby," Ingrid cooed, caressing his face with her hand. Dak let Ingrid take care of him for a moment before delivering the _coup de grace_.

"Honey, you've got to help me. My house is in shambles. I have too many kids running around like mad hatters, and my bed is empty without you. It's been pure hell," he said, adding in a little of his ‘puppy eyes’ for good measure.

Ingrid gave a pleased chuckle and kissed him passionately. Liking the smell of his fresh clean body, and the way he moved her into his space with his strong arms on her back, Ingrid was glad to finally be home. Dak smiled as he hugged her to his body. If almost five years being engaged to Ingrid had taught him anything, it was how to handle Ingrid Arden.

"You go finish getting dressed,” Ingrid gently encouraged. “I want you to get back to finding the horrible monster that hurt Liam." She headed for the door leaving an aroused and smiling Dak behind, mumbling as she went. "What is the world coming to, I ask you? First, these cute little bears starving to death in the wilderness, they come into the city to scavenge for food and are threatened with extermination if they keep returning. They tagged those poor babies, and everything."

When Dak finally left his house, he could hear Ingrid still talking. "Now the two of you are to rest while I clean this pigsty. Liam, sweetie, I'm going to make you some of my homemade chicken soup, and Belle, I think you need a soufflé, perhaps cheese? Oh no! There's no food in the house! Okay, shopping first, and I should make your father a nice meringue pie, maybe Key Lime or Lemon. I bet the laundry hasn't been done in a week-"

Dak smiled when he heard Liam's voice pipe up. "Ingrid did you hear about this wildlife refuge and some mountain climbers destroying the nesting grounds of an endangered bird? I saved the article..." Good man! Dak took off to work, confident that once Ingrid smothered them all in motherly love, cleaned the house, cooked like a demon, and reasserted her position, she would be off to a wildlife refuge in Oklahoma to save some birds.

~*~

When Killian began to stir, he stretched before rolling over under the blanket to get comfortable once more, but Mr. Booboo’s angry meow woke him fully. He sat up realizing Emma was no longer with him, and looked around the room for her. She was nowhere in sight. When Killian tried to reach for his jeans his sleeping companion took his time to stretch, yawn, and show general disdain at being roused from bed at such an ungodly hour. “By all means, Mr. Booboo, take your sweet arse time,” Killian cursed at the cat, who finally jumped down to stalk away.  Standing up he pushed his legs into his jeans and went to find Emma. The upstairs was empty and silent, August's room was occupied by a sleeping August, which surprised Killian, apparently he wasn’t the only one that was on his way to being late. Getting ready to check the garden, Killian heard a sound from the garage.

Looking into the garage, he didn’t see Emma, he followed the sound past the GTO, lovingly stroking his hand along it as he passed onward to the next garage. There she was, or at least part of her. She was under the Mustang. The music was on and she was busy talking to herself, or maybe to the car, as she worked.

Killian left her to do whatever she was doing and went to dress and make coffee. Grabbing his cell, he called into the station to talk to Nemo. It was already after nine, and Killian wasn't too happy with leaving Emma. He doubted she would want to go to work today, so he needed to arrange something.

"Nemo."

Killian frowned at the barked greeting of his Captain. “Cap, it's Jones."

"Killian! How is Emma? August called to cancel the BOLO and let us know she came home."

"She's working on my car right now-" Killian paused when Dak started cursing and then went silent. "Captain?"

"She only started to work on cars as therapy. She likes to do it now as a hobby, but in times of stress or when she just isn't coping, she goes back to mechanics," Dak explained in a low voice.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of her."

Dak said something he knew to be true, "I know you will, son.” After pausing for a moment to let his words resonate with Killian, he continued, “I want you and your team to stand down today. No one in until this afternoon at the earliest, and even tomorrow for some. I think you all need a mental day. Forensic teams are still processing the information, and tomorrow is soon enough to work on this newest murder, it’s not going anywhere. I had Lucas in here this morning all chipper and ready to go, so she's working with the university and the Mayor's office. Needless to say, this crime spree on the campus isn't going over very well."

"Thanks Cap. We could all use the time, no one has taken a day since this started. I want to stay close to Emma, and August is still under the weather." Killian paused as August came to stand in his bedroom door. "Let Ruby do her thing, and if Blanchard is handling the pressure, she might as well continue her work. I'll call them both and check with them." Killian paused again and listened to Dak before frowning and hanging up.

Looking over at August, his frown deepened. August looked sick, really sick. Burning the candle from both ends was definitely not helping, this was one member of the team who definitely needed a day off. He wasn't sure how many days August worked consecutively on Vice, but the man looked like death warmed over.

"August? What's this about Emma's mum?"

August came over to the kitchen bar and looked grateful when Killian poured him a cup of coffee. August didn't want to agree with Killian, but he was right. A day off was exactly what he needed. He wasn't as young as he used to be, his excessive drinking, and fratboy lifestyle was starting to pull him down. This last bout was kicking his ass, and that was something that hadn't happened in years. His skin was still blanched white and prickling into cold sweats. He could barely hold down food, and he kept having dizzy spells. If anyone mentioned the word Tequila to him, he would lose it all over them. _Damn!_ Another liquor he would never be able to drink again.

"When I came home this morning Ingrid came over. She saw you and Emma sleeping on the couch and started with her twenty million questions," August explained, leaning on the bar and drinking his coffee. "Man, you are so totally toast! Ingrid has problems with authority figures, people who push other people around, and she doesn't want her baby girl hooked up with a ‘Pig’. That means you, pal."

Killian tensed his jaw and frowned. What the bloody hell? "Okay, help me out, mate, she's engaged to Cap, she loves Liam like a son, and you and Emma are practically her children. Right? So maybe I'm missing something, but you're all cops. Oh, excuse me, you're all ‘Pigs’, so what makes you so special? Why can she tolerate you, but no one else?"

"Don’t let it be personal, man. It's not cops specifically, but their world, the life. It's the fact that police walk a thin line that borders on them falling from grace, turning to ‘the darkside’ as it were. And, even when we don't fall or become corrupted, we still sludge through the muck and mire, and it coats our bodies and lives like a disease. You worked Vice. You know she's right." August pushed his cup over to Killian for a refill.

"Aye, I worked Vice, but I just assumed I was a special case,” Killian couldn’t help his smug, lopsided smile here, however briefly, before his thoughts turned back to his days in Vice. “I thought that I lost touch because of me, and not from the life." Killian didn't want to remember how out of it, how on the edge he’d walked while on the streets. Nightmares still woke him in the middle of the night when he was exhausted and too tired to fight.

"It's not just you, man. It's all of us. I watched things happen, _crimes_ , and remained silent, remained undercover. I was an accessory to crimes and never punished, all for the hope of getting a bigger fish, a bigger payoff. Ingrid thinks cops are bad guys with badges, gangsters who are legal.” August got up to head back to bed. "It's just a game, a big game. Us against them and the victims are the innocents caught in the crossfire. When one of us dies, it's the deal we made, the price we knew came with the job, walking into the chaos. Not people like Tink, though. Not her. She was a casualty, and her blood is on all of our hands."

Killian watched as August walked away. "August."

He turned to look at Killian and waited for him to say what he wanted to say. "Do you think I should walk away? Should I leave Emma to find a quiet, peaceful life? Do you think I'm just a gangster, a legal thug?"

August ran a hand over his head and looked down at the floor. _Damn him!_ The one thing August didn't want to answer, to confess. "No. You're the real McCoy. Born to be a hero. The darkness touches you. It defines you, makes you who you are. But, you know what? You're the incorruptible, untouchable. To be a savior, a redeemer, you've got to have a touch of the dark in you, too." August went back to his room, but paused at the door. "And Emma, she's no innocent. Not like Tink. She's like you. The darkness made and defined her, and it's the darkness surrounding her life that makes her shine brighter. Ingrid denies it because she wants Emma to be safe. But what the hell is safe? Living in denial all your life. Numb. Trying to shelter yourself from the pain, until you die one day and learn you were so paralyzed with trying to remain safe, that you forgot to live?"

"You didn't answer my question, mate, should I walk away?"

August looked back and just shook his head. These hero types were all the same. Dense. Needing the bad guys to spill their guts and tell them the scheme. "I can't answer that,” he finally said. “Only you can. You and Emma."

Killian looked at him, perplexed by the decision he needed to make, the clues he needed to find, all of it. Emma, the murders, and his own damn heart was weighing him down. All at once, for god's sake! How was he supposed to handle this?

"Look, all I know is she seems to need you,” August said in irritation. “Emma hasn't needed anything, not for a long time. Both of you are strong people, but you're not unbreakable. I think together you're stronger than either of you are apart. I just don't want to lose her. I need her, too."

Killian didn't want that either. He wanted Ingrid Arden to be right. That Emma could be safe, that this world of darkness wasn't meant for her. August was right too, right on the mark with people he ran into every day. People like Regina who ran and searched for numbness to protect her from life and the pain. God help all of them. "August..."

"Jones? Do I look like your damn priest? I'm not a frickin' prophet, guru, or some holy dude. Fucking find yourself a damn confessor! Just know that I'm the opposite of that. I'm your executioner. You lose her for us, fail to protect her, and I will shoot you dead." August shut his door behind him and went back to bed. These hero types were fucking exhausting.

Killian stared at the closed door. Damn the worthless, horny bastard! He was making Killian actually like and respect him. August lived his life seeing black and white, but enjoyed walking in all the shades between. But Ruby? Damn! The man still had a lot to learn. Picking up his phone, he made calls to check on his team. When he finished, he went to find Emma, to check on her and make sure she was all right. Emma was still under the car talking to it, telling it that it was going to be fine. With a little work, some new parts, and a little rebuilding ‘she’ would be just fine. Better than fine. Reborn.

Emma moved out from under the car and saw him staring at her, but not really seeing her. He was so deep in thought that, for a second, she wondered where he had gone. Emma just smiled to herself and continued working. He would come back when he was ready. She wasn't going anywhere.

They spent all morning working on the car, trying to make a list of what would need to be replaced eventually. Emma took one look at the carburetor and started bitching. It looked too worn to rebuild, and so she took it out and tossed it on a drop sheet in the corner.

Killian felt like his heart had been ripped out seeing his poor car gutted and tossed about like junk. "At least it ran when I drove it here," he grumbled, looking at the parts she was removing from the car. "Now it doesn’t even start."

"Look, you want to fix it? Restore it? Then you have to make decisions. We need to cut away the diseased parts, the ones that no longer work. They're damaging the rest of the systems. We keep them in case we can't find a new part or replacements, and we're forced to rebuild them. But holding on to something that needs to go is foolish." Emma, covered in oil and grime, her hands greasy and stained, went to stand by him. "It took me three years to rebuild my car. At first, I was too damaged and timid to toss anything away. It was like taking something broken, used, and destroyed and giving up. I rebuilt it all, tried to salvage the small pieces as if they were parts of my soul. Sometimes, shit leaks in and causes too much damage and you're forced to cut it away. So, that cloth over there. It's for you. It's telling you that even though we're tearing your car apart, it doesn't mean we can't repair it. All the pieces will be there if you need or want them."

Killian looked at her. It was healing, all about healing. Emma taught herself to heal, and then used three years to perfect the process. The reason she survived was because she never stopped healing. Every damage, every blow was immediately tended to. Emma worked on the car because she was working on her grief for Tink, and she was offering him a chance to do the same. Not just for Tink, but for his brother, Liam.

"So we're not throwing anything away. We can put it back...if I need it put back?" he asked, surprised at how weak his voice sounded.

It scared the hell out of him, the way her eyes suddenly looked like endless souls. Dark and quiet, they looked deep within him, _seeing_ him, reading him. She was like a sorceress in her ability to deeply understand him. Killian felt that depth, knew it existed because she was able to navigate him so well, almost effortlessly.

"Nothing goes until you're ready, or you make the decision to let it go," she confirmed, reaching up she kissed him gently. "I promise you that."

Killian leaned into her, whispering, "What else can you promise, Professor?"

Emma grinned. "I can promise you it will be expensive!"

Killian laughed heartily. Of that, he had no doubt. Everything connected with Emma Swan seemed to be just that, expensive. Her life, her laugh, and the way she touched him. They all seemed to come with a price, and he wasn't sure he could afford to pay, but only time would tell.

Killian moved in menacingly, backing her up against the fender. "Just how expensive we talking, darling?"

Emma just chuckled and moved her grimy hands up his no longer pristine white shirt, to cup his face. "Don't worry, Detective. I'll make sure you can afford it, whatever the cost." Emma kissed him long and hard. Killian picked her up to sit on the hood and ran his dirty hands all over her, under her shirt, loving the smell of motor oil on her skin.

"Emma!"

Emma pulled away from Killian and looked around him. _Oh shit!_ " _Mom?!_ "

~*~

 


	11. Sometimes It Hurts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, you guys blow me away with your enthusiasm for this story. All your comments are truly awesome. I'm so super glad you liked Ingrid. She is such a fun character to write, and so different from OUAT's version. But I feel Emma needs a fun-loving mother to help counteract all the crap she's been through.
> 
> The usually thanks go out to ilovemesomekillianjones. You're a star who I would give my coffee to, if you drank it. :) (This is something huge, guys. I can't live without my coffee)
> 
> Chapter warning: Just some mild talk about substance abuse.

**Chapter 11:  Sometimes It Hurts**

Killian watched as Emma and her mom talked and fixed lunch while he was busy doing whatever task they gave him. Cut this, clean that, and get that. As far as Killian could tell, it was best just to do as asked and stay out of the way.

"A Pig!" Ingrid exclaimed, looking at Killian. "No offense."

Killian just shrugged. It wasn't as if he hadn't heard that term before... and from Emma at that.

"Mom, I'm putting this whole discussion under the heading of ‘none of your business’, so butt out!"

"Emma!"

"No! Don't _Emma_ me. Remember Dak Nemo?" Emma said, waving a knife around carelessly at her mother. Killian reached across, took the knife from her, and continued slicing the beef.

"Dak is different!" Ingrid argued in her defense.

"He is not! You don't even know Killian. So how do you know? _How do you know?_ " Emma winked at Killian with a loving grin, finally realizing why he’d taken the knife. He didn’t want her brandishing a weapon at her mother, which when she thought about it was pretty sweet, seeing as her mother was currently bashing him based on nothing more than his career choice.

Killian watched as Ingrid removed Kaiser rolls from the oven and tried to slice them without burning herself. He calmly slid the tray away from her to take over the task. She smiled her thanks at Killian and continued to argue back and forth with Emma about names, times, dates, and instances that had Killian's head racing. August emerged from his cubbyhole once, saw the two, shook his head no, and disappeared back inside, closing the door firmly behind him.

Killian smoothly walked around the two, grabbed an already made sandwich, added extra roast beef, and some chips, took a beer from the refrigerator, then walked over to tap on August's door. The man cautiously opened it to see sustenance being offered August snatched the food and beer, then quickly shut the door in Killian's face. Killian paused for a second, went back into the kitchen, found the ketchup, and returned to knock on August's door again. Just a hand came out to grab the ketchup, and then disappeared. He heard a "Thanks, man." from the other side. _Coward!_

It was a phone call for Emma that finally broke the argument. Killian tried not to listen while Emma talked to her Department Head, Christopher Walsh. Anger twisted his face as he listened to her side of the conversation, her voice becoming increasingly irritated. As the man continued to harass her, Killian lost his patience, finally taking the phone from Emma.

_"... and I expect you to be in the office tomorrow. Your constant tardiness and nonattendance is noted. If you think..."_

"Professor Walsh? This is Detective Jones. I believe we spoke last week." Killian waited for the sputtering man to pause, then smirked hearing Walsh cautiously acknowledge him. "You, Mr. Walsh, are exactly the type of person I've been looking for as a possible suspect in my current case. Someone with connections to the university, connections to the museum, and a black, evil, worthless soul. I think you and I need to talk." Killian smiled humorlessly at the phone, his voice low, dark and quiet. "I will expect you at the Storybrooke P.D. for questioning, no later than one-thirty, or I will send uniformed officers to escort you from your university offices in handcuffs." Killian paused to listen to Walsh stammer. "Do I make my intentions clear? Good. Just sign in at the front desk and they will escort you to an interrogation room."

Killian hung up the phone and called his partner. "David, mate. I know we were going to lay low today, take some time to recharge, but I've got a need to squash a big ugly toad... maybe make it cry a little. Do you want to play?" Killian listened and smiled. That was his partner, always willing to play in other people's sandboxes. "On my way as soon as I eat. Emma made me lunch. I’ll see you around one. Later."

When Killian hung up, he was surprised when Ingrid Arden pulled him into a full-blown hug. With a quick kiss on his cheek, Ingrid headed for the door. "I expect to see you both at family dinner this Sunday. No excuses! Bye, sweeties." Emma came over to stand beside Killian and he immediately pulled her close to his body.

"Your mum, huh?"

"Yeah."

"I like her."

~*~

Before they left the station, David and Killian stopped to check up on the lab boys. They were still chuckling over scaring the crap out of Christopher Walsh. What a prick! Just for being super stupid, obnoxious, and creepy, they decided to keep him on their list. David asked Killian how Emma was dealing with Tink's death, and Killian just shrugged. Emma was keeping things close to her chest, not giving out much. He knew that eventually it would all cascade out of control and there was nothing he could do to stop it, he just hoped he could help her survive it.

"Lance, do you have anything for us?" Killian asked as they entered the room. A small group of technicians was standing around the computer, making comments and suggestions, with Lance, chief technician and Blanchard’s second-in-charge, in the center, frowning at the monitor before him.

"Afternoon, Jones. We've been working on the computer all morning. The system is totally trashed. The entire hard drive appears to have been wiped," Lance told them before he turned back to argue with one of his technicians.

David and Killian looked at each other. This confirmed their worst suspicions. Tink had found or located information that was a danger to the unsub. Ruby had reported all the information they had uncovered, and told them that hard copies existed. But nothing was retrieved from the scene.

They stayed a little longer before heading home. David looked over at Killian curiously. The whole ‘tossing a university official, threatening him if he in any way, shape, or form harmed, caused harm, or caused a single tear to be shed by one Emma Swan, then he would receive a visit from one Killian Jones’ was a surprise. Whatever had happened between the two the day before was obviously fixed.

When David returned home, he was surprised to see Regina dressed and ready to go out. Usually she waited a little later than four in the afternoon to take off for the night.

"Regina? You're not going out, are you? I'm home tonight, and I was hoping we could do something. Maybe go out for dinner?"

Regina looked at David distractedly. She had plans. After learning more about Killian and his new relationship, and seeing him so incredibly upset last night, Regina had made some decisions. She was going to confront Robin Locksley... no more cat and mouse games. It was time to get on with it.

"I can't, David," she said regretfully David had always supported her completely. She had run through her savings in no time flat and then started eating away at David's, too. Despite all the things he did, all the sacrifices he made, they were becoming increasingly out of touch. Regina knew it was her fault. She was practicing a lifestyle he couldn't even try to understand, let alone support. They were growing further and further apart.

"Regina-"

"I've got to go."

Before David could stop her, she was out the door. He somberly moved to the living room window and looked out across Storybrooke. With Killian involved and busy, Regina off doing what she did, he suddenly felt incredibly alone.

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his cell, scowling through his contacts. He hesitated for a few moments, asking himself if what he was about to do was the right thing. Pressing the button, he made the call.

"Hi, Mary Margaret? It's David Nolan. I was wondering if you were busy tonight."

David paused and listened as Mary Margaret spluttered out that she was available for work whenever he needed.  

"Mary Margaret,” he interrupted her rambling, “I don’t need you to work. How would you feel about going to dinner, and an art opening on campus?”

There was a pause as she seemed to consider his request. David’s heart jumped when she softly agreed, and after arranging to pick her up, he ended the call. Moving into the kitchen, he thought about what Killian had said. He did find fault in every woman he dated, never found a reason to commit. He grabbed a beer and sat down for a moment to drink it. David always made sure to date only women looking for a good time, maybe interested in a light affair that might go somewhere, but not ones who were the kind that tied a man up inside with thinking about them, not ones like Emma Swan.

Mary Margaret stirred something different inside him, something that scared him a little but something that made him feel more alive every time he saw her. She was kind and sweet, but timid, a scared little bird who needed encouragement to fly. He wanted to help her, he wanted to be the reason she spread her wings. He wanted to understand her loneliness.

Seeing her laugh and chat with August Booth had driven him crazy. August wasn't a serious man, he wouldn’t give Mary Margaret a forever. August was all wrong, and David somehow knew he was right.

Thinking of Booth brought his mind back to Emma Swan. David felt a twinge in his stomach, a forbidden feeling, as if he let himself, he could fall for her. It was obvious that she only had eyes for Killian, and that she didn't really see him, and he knew he would never do anything to jeopardize his relationship with his partner. Emma Swan was threatening to become a major fascination, and no matter how he looked at it, or turned it around, he was becoming obsessed with finding someone just like her.

~*~

Killian let himself into the condo through the garage, expecting to find Emma still working on his car. When he entered her home, he stopped in his tracks, shocked at the flurry of activity. There were about half a dozen young adults moving around, running power cords across the room, setting up a few large tables, and phone lines. Killian counted three computers.

Emma was busy talking to a group of people, and Killian just watched her. She was still pale, and her voice raised and then lowered unnaturally, but the slight tremble in her hand worried him the most. She wasn't going to stop.

He knew if she slowed down, sat still for a moment, it would hit, thoughts of Tink would come rushing in, and she would lose it. Going over to her, Killian positioned himself between her and the few students. Emma looked at him and frowned for a moment. Suddenly her face cleared as she seemed to register it was Killian standing before her.

"Killian."

"What’s going on, Professor?" he asked, tucking a wild piece of hair behind her ear just as the doorbell rang.

"Emma! Food delivery!" the young man who answered the door called out.

"Hold that thought,” she said, holding a finger up to Killian. “I'll be right back." Emma went over to the door and let in the three delivery men carrying containers food. "Just set them up on the breakfast bar. Floyd, did you bring steamers? I told Granny to make two seafood platters. Now I think I should have asked for three..."

"She made you three, also two deli platters, a veggie platter, and three lasagnas. She also sent her homemade chowder. The salads are over there, with the fresh bread, breadsticks, and garlic cheese bread." The man handed her an order form. Emma quickly checked it over and signed her name, taking her receipt.

"Thank her for me," she said with a hollow smile, handing the ticket back. Emma walked the men out as the students made their way to the large quantities of food, and began fixing plates.

"Professor!" Emma turned back to Killian and nodded. Stopping momentarily to tell the students where drinks were, she headed upstairs towards her bedroom with Killian on her heels. "Okay, what's going on?" he asked as soon as they reached the top.

Emma sat down on the bed and took a deep breath. After Killian left a few hours ago, she’d checked her email. She’d been shaking inside since. "After you left, while Gus was still sleeping, I decided to check my email. Tink emailed me all the research she had received." Killian swore under his breath and sat next to her. "She sent me a message that was timestamped at one in the morning."

Killian didn't like the way her voice was wavering, he quickly pulled her into his arms, and could feel the deep tremors. Picking her up, he took her into the bathroom and started a hot bath. "Okay... it's okay Emma, you don't have to tell me what she said. The perp wiped her computer, they must know we can find the information again. They just wanted to stall us. This will help."

Emma's teeth were chattering. "She wrote me. I was the last person she ever talked to, sort of. Oh god, she wanted to know if you were into threesomes, being that you were so ‘godlike’." Emma started to laugh, and then with a hiccup, a sob left her body as she began to shake.

 _Bloody hell!_ Killian tossed off his shoes, quickly removing his shoulder holster and gun, and climbed into the tub fully clothed. Grabbing her body, he held her close to him. All this repressed sorrow was doing her nothing but damage. She needed to cry, to find some outlet instead of letting it tear her insides apart.

"Emma?" Killian heard August's voice in the bedroom.

"August!" Killian called him as he held her. It wasn't as bad as when she saw Geppeti’s murder scene pictures, but it was close. He needed to get her warm and calm and talking.

August came in and looked at them incredulously in the tub. "What the hell is going on? Who are all these people, and why are you in the tub with your clothes? Emma-" August finally saw her face and stopped talking. Looking at Killian, he immediately exited the bathroom to get her something hot to drink, hot tea... with a ton of sugar.

Killian's brows flexed in confusion. August still looked sick, and despite all his sleeping, he still looked like he needed more. This case, the stress, and even Tink's death were hitting him just as hard. When August returned, he passed Killian a cup of hot tea laced with lots of sugar and a finger of scotch. He also handed Killian two sleeping tablets from his private reserve. He used them when he was on long stretches in Vice, sometimes he’d only get a chance to sleep in the middle of day and couldn't because of the light and noise. August watched Killian feed her the tea, speaking in low soothing tones.

When Killian lifted the meds to her lips, Emma thrashed in his arms. “No,” she cried out weakly. “I can’t.”

“Please Emma, you need to rest, and give your mind a break,” Killian pleaded. The blue of his eyes dulled a little, not liking himself very much in that moment. He understood all too well what it was like to be force fed medication when you didn’t want it.

“I can’t,” she said brokenly. “I don’t want to go where they will take me.”

“It’s okay, love,” he reassured her. “I’ll be with you the entire time.”

Her watery eyes shifted to his, and Killian was floored by the complete trust he saw shining through a touch of fright. She slowly opened her mouth and accepted the pills.

"She needs to learn to cry instead of bottling it all up inside," August said, looking at the woman who he considered a sister as she rested against Killian, her body shaking as they waited for the tablets to take effect. He hated himself for giving Killian the sleeping aids. He knew she hated to take sleeping pills, to have no control over her night terrors.

August had slept through all the chaos downstairs, leaving him a little confused on the congregation in the living room. "Who are all those people?" he asked. “No clue, mate,” Killian admitted. “I went out to take care of an interview and just got back to the invasion." He gently wiped Emma's face, reaching to kiss her head, and then her pale lips.

He’d slept through all of this! Killian had left Emma because he was home, but he wasn't in any shape to take care of her. Here she was, almost in shock again and breaking into pieces. August cursed at himself under his breath. _Worthless fuck, what the fuck is going on? This has to end soon!_

Killian looked over helplessly when August suddenly lurched toward the toilet before he was violently ill. Shit, the man was shaking so much his hands could barely hold him over the toilet bowl as he dry-heaved. What the fuck was up with him? "Gus? Shit, mate, I think you need to go to the doctor's office. You look like crap. You usually look like crap, but this is major crap!" Killian said, trying to lighten the moment as he felt Emma’s body relax against him.

"Asshole,” August muttered, then wiped his mouth. “Man, I feel like I have mono or something. I swear my heart feels like it is pounding out of my chest. The nausea is okay unless I eat, then it's worse. I threw up blood earlier," August confided honestly.

Killian looked at the man. He looked like he was in pain. "I'm gonna call David to come get you, mate. He'll take you to the doctor."

"No. I'm fine. I think it's passing. Emma is my major concern right now." August got up on shaky legs and went to rinse out his mouth and wash his face.

Killian looked down and found Emma sleeping against him. "Gus, are you steady enough to grab me a bath towel?"

August nodded and grabbed one as the man stood up with Emma in his arms. She looked so small and delicate in Killian’s embrace. He didn't know how much more she could take before it broke her to pieces, or she perforated her own ulcer.

“Can you get the bed ready,” Killian nodded toward the room, “I’m going to get her out of these clothes.” As soon as August exited the bathroom, Killian stripped Emma out of her soaking clothes, dried her with the towel, and then wrapped it around her body. As before she stood motionless letting him tend to her without reaction. He carried her into the bedroom and laid her on the bed, quickly covering her with the comforter as August brought a few more blankets over.

"Do you need to borrow some clothes?" August asked.

"I’m okay, thanks, mate. I've got some here."

August's eyebrow shot up at that. Since when did he start moving clothes over here? August watched as Killian opened a drawer and took out a Storybrooke P.D. t-shirt, and a pair of sweatpants, and set them on the dresser. He walked back to the bathroom, removed his wet clothes and hung them and Emma’s on the shower door. When he went to grab the towel to wrap around his waist he realized it was still on Emma. _Oh well,_ he thought. If Gus was still out there it would serve him right for bursting into their room butt ass naked in a scavenger hunt for condoms the other night. Retrieving his gun and holster, Killian marched back into the bedroom unabashedly to get dressed.

 _Damn_! _Killian Jones obviously has no shame,_ August thought as Killian walked around naked, like he owned the place. _Double damn!_ He guessed it was only fair after he had flashed Killian with his naked body the other night, but seeing Jones's package up close was a shocker. August was suddenly suffering from a bout of penis envy. _Damn, it’s not even_... August shook the thought from his head. He needed his brain washed out, all he could think of was his small Emma and that monster, and... he shook his head again. Some fronts were better left unexplored.

"August, I'm going downstairs to find out what the bloody hell is going on. Why don't you lie down with Emma, keep an eye on her, and rest?" Killian instructed, as he finished dressing. He wanted them both where he could keep an eye on them. He knew he’d promised her he wouldn’t leave her, but he needed to find out if the group downstairs had anything concrete he could work with. He just hoped he’d be back before she woke.

August groaned, getting ready to refuse, but in truth, the smell of food from downstairs was making his stomach pitch and roll again. So, he acknowledged Killian's request and stretched out on the bed.

Killian wasn't surprised when August was asleep almost immediately.

~*~

Robin saw her immediately. He didn't know how she got into the club before opening hours. The bartender was restocking and getting the bar ready for the night, when he saw Robin and nodded his head towards Regina. Robin acknowledged the nod, and quickly went to find his band member Tuck.

A few moments later, he returned to the main bar, and the bartender discreetly found something to do in the back. Regina sat there sipping on a dry martini, munching on extra olives. Sensing someone watching her, she turned to see Robin just standing there with his hands on his hips looking at her.

Regina smiled grandly and turned in her seat to face him fully. He looked so wonderful in nothing but a pair of tight jeans and a t-shirt, his hair was unruly, and his face unshaved. She liked his hair curled at his neck and behind his ears, the color offset the glint of metal from his earrings.

"Robin!" she greeted, her eyes shining with mischief.

"Regina." Robin sighed and decided to get it over with. "What are you doing here? It's not bar hours yet. This place can't serve until posted hours. It's against the law."

Regina smiled at that. "What do you know about the law?"

"I own the club. Knowing about the law and liquor regulations in Storybrooke is what keeps this place open, and only raided a few times a year." Robin didn't like giving out that much information about himself, but he was going to get up close and personal with her real soon, so he might as well come clean.

"You own The Hollow! That's priceless. I love this place. I come here all the time," Regina enthused.

"Aye, I know. I think you're determined to make me a rich man before I'm forty." Robin had set a limit to her drinks just recently. He didn't mind people coming to party in his place, but he didn't believe in taking money off people and then sending them out to die in cars on their way home.

"I thought the guy my brother talked to the other night was the owner," she stated, puzzled.

"Actually, he's the manager. He runs the place, does the ordering, hiring, and firing. I just watch from the stage." Robin reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, lighting up. "I noticed you here the other night talking to Will." He noticed a lot more than her socializing with a dealer, because she was impossible to ignore.

"Yeah, he's okay." Regina was cautious about mentioning what Will did for her.

"He's not okay, and he's not supposed to be dealing in my club. Look Regina, I don't care what you do for entertainment, but I don't like to see hardcore drugs done in my club. I have my people watching for creeps who use Ecstasy, Meth, and any other substance to entrap people. I don't allow drug use in my club, even though some find a way in. If we can catch it, we usually close it down immediately." Robin looked at her and felt something close to pity. This was going to be difficult.

"I'm sorry! I didn't-" Regina sputtered.

Robin cut her off. "My people like to party. They do some shit, but nothing so abusive it takes away your life. I know you're trying to get into the inner circle, close..." Robin paused not wanting to sound too knowledgeable or even self-assured. He wasn't sure she could take it in her condition. "I left orders that you're a no-admit."

Regina could feel the blood draining from her body. Guess she had her answer, he didn't like her, because he didn't like her. Simple as that.

"I'm sorry... I'll go," Regina mumbled as she reached for her stuff, but he stopped her. Robin knew he needed to treat her rough and cruelly, but he wasn't a man that believed in kicking wounded animals.

"Do you want to know why I ordered you off? Do you want to know why all staff and band members keep clear of you?" he asked.

Regina shook her head no. She didn't want to hear his cruel words. Men had said worse to her in the past six years, but nothing as harsh as she said to herself. Somehow, she just knew that words from Robin's mouth would be the worst, because they would somehow mean something.

Robin ignored her protest and told her anyway, knowing sometimes the only way to cure an illness was to lance it, to cut into the festering underbelly and cut away the disease. "I didn't want to see you whoring it up with my people. I don’t want you doing it with me!" Robin watched her get up and run, and he pursued her. When she was close to the wall, he reached her and pushed her against it moving into her personal space.

"Leave me alone!" she spat out, finding a little of her grit. She was upset, positive that having him abuse her would break her for good. It would be something she couldn't forget or survive, so she used her only weapon, her anger.

"No!" Robin's voice lowered. "No, Regina. I will not leave you alone. You asked for this, moved in for it, wanted it for so long... why should I deny you? You want me, don't you?"

Regina wanted to say no. She wanted to lie, to wipe the self-assured, confident look off his face. He was a man too much in control of his world. She hated him for the strength she saw in him, the strength that mocked her weakness. She couldn't face him this way, continuing to be weak, so she admitted the terrible sin. "Yes, yes I wanted you!"

Robin pulled away and looked at her his eyes raging with emotions she couldn't understand. "No! No you don't! You want the image of me, what you think I am. And _that_ is why you were banned," he growled, moving back from her, telling himself to do what he must before he became trapped by her. This wasn't going to happen.

“Don’t tell me what I want and don’t want,” Regina ground out, her strength growing. She wanted him, she wanted him so much it hurt. Inside this bar, in a cheap motel, or up against a dark alley wall. But most of all she wanted to be in his bed, a place she could stay, and never leave.

"Robin, what the hell is wrong with you?" Regina gasped, “why are you so against this, against me?”

"Regina," Robin groaned, a hand coming up to run through his hair. “You’re looking for something I can’t give you. You want…” What the hell was he doing, he wondered. He stepped back to her and his hand slid up, stroking Regina's soft hair, caressing her face gently, his fingers trembling at the feel of her skin.

Shaking his head, Robin tried to regain some control. He should have known better than to let it get this far. Let her get to him. "Regina," he sighed. "Don't fuck with me."

"What do you mean?" Regina whispered, lifting her face closer to Robin, letting the smell and feel of him send her reeling in waves of lust and desire that pulsed through her body.

"Don't do this, not unless you understand what it means." Robin answered, his hands restraining her when she would have drawn near.

"What?" Regina moaned, her lips moving to Robin's, gently at first, then sinking into his mouth with a groan.

"Oh, god," Robin gasped, feeling her tongue probing against his slack and hungry lips, caressing his tongue, pulling it back into her mouth, sucking on it hungrily. "Is this what you want, Regina?" Robin moaned, his arms sliding under her hair around her neck, pulling her closer as he fed hungrily on her mouth. He pressed his hot body into her embrace, his legs spreading hers apart so he could rest in her cradle of her thighs as she gasped his name.

"Oh God, Robin," Regina moaned, feeling the blazing heat of Robin's tongue, and his hands cradling her against him. Regina breathed thickly, her body arching up against him, her hands sliding down, fumbling with the zipper that pressed into her, eagerly wanting to release the full weight of him into her hand.

Robin pulled back from her, keeping her hands out of his pants. "Do you understand, Regina? Is this what you want?"

Regina arched into him, pushing her body into his, struggling to have him release her so she could take him. "Yes, god yes, I want you, just you."

Robin watched her eyes close, heard her struggled breath, he needed to force her to say it, to acknowledge her options. "Then say it. Tell me, Regina, tell me what you want."

"You, I want you."

Robin gripped her hard and gave her a little shake to pull her out of this drug-like state she was in, to make her listen and talk. "The words, tell me what you want me to do to you, Regina. I need the words." Robin watched her eyes clear as she focused on his, taking in large gasping breaths, trying to calm her over heated body.

"I want you to sleep with me, to take me to bed-"

"The truth Regina! What do you want from me?!" Robin pushed for more, for the truth.

"I want you to fuck me! And keep fucking me until there's nothing left but-"

Robin didn't let her finish. “That’s exactly why this can’t go anywhere. You want me to fix you, to be an addiction that feeds you just like the drugs do, to make you forget whatever has you drowning your memories. I can’t do that, Regina, I can’t fix someone, not even you. You have to be willing to do that on your own.”

"No, no I want."

"What do you want from me?"

"I want you to love me!" Regina was shocked at her answer, horrified at the look he gave her.

He stood back from her and searched for a cigarette. Finding one, he lit it and leaned back against a wall, looking at her critically. "I can't,” Robin said finally, watching closely as her face shuddered with emotion.

"Why? Why can't you?" she asked, trying to keep the hysteria from her voice. She was mortified at what he was saying. Three weeks ago, she wouldn't have cared. She would have just wanted the physical gratification, the numbness. But not with him. He was different. She thought he might be the one to bring her back to life. She could feel his energy, the life-force of his music around him, but how could she be so wrong?

Robin moved in and tenderly cupped her beautiful face, running his thumb across her cheekbone. "I can't love a woman that doesn’t love herself. I'm no hero, no knight in shining armor, but I won't be another man in a long line of men, who use you physically and throw you away. I won’t take advantage of your pain. Do you want me to love you?" Robin asked waiting for her to nod yes. "Then learn to love yourself first."

Regina didn't know what to say. Why should he even care? She was nothing to him, less than nothing. All he saw when he looked at her was how weak and destructive she was. "Then we can never-"

"Look,” he interrupted her. “If all you want from me is some momentary gratification, a little something to tide you over until you find another man to whore yourself to, then fine, let’s get it on. I'm game. I haven't tried to hide the fact that my body responds to you, but, if what you want is more, more for you, more for me... then that takes work." He moved in and took her mouth in a long, and passionate kiss, putting feeling into it. "Baby, the work is on your side. I don't save broken souls or mend broken wings. You want me, then you heal yourself first."

"I’ve tried, I really have, but I don't know how."

"No excuses, Regina. I'm giving you two options." Robin looked up and saw Tuck giving him a sign from the door. "You can walk out and never come back, pretend this never happened. You go on with your life, and I with mine. Or you can decide to heal, to be the woman I know you can be, then we can give this thing a real shot. You can follow Tuck over there out of here, you can get in the cab that is waiting and let it take you to this clinic run by a friend of mine. I made all the arrangements. They'll let you check yourself in, but they won't let you leave until you're ready, if you leave before the program is complete, there's no going back."

Regina looked at him as if he were insane. It was crazy. He was crazy to think it was just that easy. Get in a cab and change her life. If it were that easy, she would have done it long ago.

"It is that easy, baby," Robin soothed as he pulled her into his arms and held her tight. "It doesn't have to be difficult if it's what you really, really want. I'm not offering you any guarantees that I'll still be here, but I'm offering you a different path. This life you are leading, it's a killer, a long hard road, and the other is your salvation. I can't lead you down the path or walk with you, but I can point you in the right direction. And Regina? It's that way." Robin pointed to the door and Tuck.

Regina looked at his earnest eyes, the intent of his demeanor, and then at the door. Taking a breath, a long, deep sigh and letting something so old and corrupt out of her, she looked at Robin again. Taking his head between her hands, she reached over and kissed him slowly and deeply. Stopping to rest against him, she breathed in his energy, his assurance for just a second. Finally, straightening her back she smiled unsure at him. "Okay."

Regina took her stuff and turned away, walking unsteadily to the door, but never once faltering. It didn't matter if Robin waited for her, if they ever got together, or even if she ever saw him again. All that mattered was he gave her choices, and for once in her life, she was making this one for her.

Robin watched the door shut behind her. Taking one last draw on his cigarette, which had all but burned away, he threw the rest on the floor and ground it under his heel. Robin wished her luck in a whisper as he turned to go back to his life. "Godspeed."

~*~

Mary Margaret and David strolled toward campus and the Art show David had promised, enjoying the mild evening. They’d had a delicious meal at Tony’s, a favored Italian restaurant close to campus and were now onto the second part of their evening. David had no clue if Mary Margaret even liked art, but he hadn’t wanted to take her to the movies. There you needed to be quiet, and he wanted to learn as much about Mary Margaret as he could, away from her lab, and away from death.

“Are you interested in art?” Mary Margaret asked, seeming to read his mind.

“A little,” he lied. “Well, enough to know what I like and what I don’t,” he admitted with a pleasant smile. “How about you?”

“A little,” she smiled demurely. “I can identify the masterpieces, but I doubt we’re going to see any of those here.”

“Yeah, highly doubtful,” David agreed. “So, tell me about yourself, Mary Margaret? Your family. Brothers and sisters.”

“No siblings, I’m an only child,” she revealed. “How about you?”

“Well, you know about Regina,” he answered with a knowing look.

Mary Margaret nodded. Of course, she did, everyone knew about Regina. Though Storybrooke had expanded greatly in the last ten years, especially with the addition of the university, its long-time residents still maintained a small-town mentality, and gossip was rampant. Regina Nolan had fueled that gossip since she’d arrived in town.

“What is not well known is I had a brother as well, a twin brother,” David added.

“Oh. Had?” She was all too aware what that small word meant.

“Yeah, he died when we were teenagers,” David said, his eyes looking off into the distance.

“Do you mind me asking how?” Mary Margaret probed.

Usually David was unsettled and protective when it came to talking about his brother, but with Mary Margaret it didn’t seem as hard.

“James was… different. He had a thirst for life, even at a young age. I was the cautious one, while he ran ahead, not thinking of the repercussions. He had a group of friends, he was like the ringleader, and they followed him like faithful dogs.”

“And you? What was teenaged David like?”

“Someone had to have the responsibility of helping our mother run the farm, and try to keep Regina in line. James didn’t care about that, he cared for what he could get out of life, what he felt life owed him.”

“What happened?”

“He took it too far, went up against the wrong opponent and they cut him down. Literally.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, David,” she said sincerely, her face expressing every emotion she felt for him.

He smiled wearily, “I think that’s probably why I chose to be a cop as a career, to take out the bad guys before they took out someone else. James may not have been liked by many, even myself sometimes, but he was still my brother, my twin.”

“Of course, he was,” Mary Margaret agreed.

They strolled in silence for a block, neither one knowing what to say after David’s revelation, until they came to the campus. “So this art thing, it’s in the Horwitz building. Have any clue where that is?”

Mary Margaret laughed a little as she shook her head. “No idea.”

“Well, it will be our first adventure together, then,” David smiled back. He offered her his arm, saying gallantly, “Shall we, My Lady?”

“How charming,” she chuckled as she slipped her arm through his. “Why, thank you, kind Sir.” And together they went in search of adventure.

~*~

 


	12. A Legendary Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys realize how much I love each and every one of you. Your comments are always truly awesome and it still shocks me that you all love my writing so much. I sincerely hope that never changes. 
> 
> ilovemesomekillianjones remains the best beta out there, despite her crazy life she still finds time to follow me on my crazy CS adventures. 
> 
> No chapter warnings for this one, lets just head straight in.

**Chapter 12:  A Legendary Love**

Emma watched them from her bedroom. When she woke up, she was surprised to see August sleeping next to her, and not Killian. Reaching over to brush the hair from August's face, Emma was shocked at how feverish he felt. Covering him up, she went to join the crew assembled downstairs.

Killian was talking on the phone, and David had come over to help with Mary Margaret in tow. He was sitting at a table in the living room set up with all the manuscripts from Professor Geppeti's office. Two graduate students of Tink's were with him, helping him to decipher the translations. Three other students were on the computers brought from the university, locating and following articles from the emails Tink had sent Emma. Everything was being hard copied. Emma also noticed there were two men there she didn't know.

When Killian left Emma and August sleeping, he’d headed downstairs to check out the situation.  He learned Emma had decided to move everything to her home since the university no longer felt safe. She’d called in a few favors with some of the department’s graduate students to help her piece together Tink's research; the entire group had been more than willing to lend a hand if it helped to find Tink's murderer. Killian contacted the station to have all the professor's manuscripts sent over, and after talking to Al, the two men located everything necessary to get started.

Emma had slept for three hours before waking with a start. She immediately walked down into the hustle and bustle, curious to see what progress had been made. Everyone had an activity, they were all talking at once, each in their own little groups based on their task. All the food she’d ordered was gone, and the kitchen was spotless. She also noticed two technical support members were helping the students with the computer work.

Killian watched her descend the stairs. He had hoped she would sleep longer, that the tablets he gave her would have a longer effect. Emma stopped at the base of the stairs and sat down when Killian came over. He sat down next to her.

"You feeling better, Professor?" His voice was low and gentle, but full of compassion and worry, and some anger, but Emma... she was just still.

Emma nodded. "Any progress?"

"Aye, quite a bit actually. It appears Professor Geppeti had a long history with this legend. He translated three different versions of the story, and they appear almost identical with some minor variations," Killian said looking at her and frowning. He could tell she wasn't paying attention, not really. "Why did you set things up in your home, Emma?"

"I took a leave of absence from the university today. I decided it was best to stay away from there for a while. The museum work will be complete, except for the examination of the invoices and stuff. Mary Margaret can bring those over here tomorrow. Ruby can provide computer support here," she explained. She listlessly stood from the step and moved to the kitchen, checking out her supplies. Killian followed her, sitting down at the bar and watching her search through her kitchen. He didn't say a word while she made a list and called in a grocery order to a local store for delivery.

"When did you take the leave of absence? I had your department head pissing his pants in an interrogation room for the better part of this afternoon," Killian said, hoping to bring a bit of warmth back into her eyes. Instead he watched as she started sorting through a stack of takeout menus. "Emma?"

"I called after you left. Archie Hopper is a member of the board of trustees, and an acquaintance. I called in a favor and had him grant me temporary leave in lieu of the losses I have suffered, and the current police protection I've been given." Emma dumped out the old coffee and made a fresh pot. Taking a garbage bag, she began tossing out the empty food containers and cleaning her kitchen.

Killian recognized that she was trying to keep busy. "Archie Hopper is a very important man,” Killian acknowledged. “He owns quite a bit of real estate. So, basically you went behind your department chair's back and secured yourself an excuse."

"Yes," she said, pausing in her task to finally look at him. "Whatever it takes, no matter how long, we're not stopping until this is finished. You can't do your job if you’re constantly babysitting me, and keeping an eye on anyone else who might get caught up in this wreckage. Therefore, I am making it easier. I'm moving to a location that you can watch over more easily." Emma moved to join him at the bar, stroking her hand along his stubbled cheek.

Killian closed his eyes to avoid looking at the emptiness of hers. It physically hurt to see the usually captivating Emma Swan so very stricken.

"There can be no rest, no forgiveness. This bastard took my family, Detective. I have no others in my life I'm willing to part with. So, Chinese or Mexican?”

"What?" Killian raised a brow at her in confusion. _Chinese or Mexican?_

"For takeout. I know some Mexican and Chinese restaurants around here that can deliver big orders, so what do you think? Mexican or Chinese?"

"Kiss me, Professor," was his response.

Emma stopped to look at him, it was her turn to be confused.

"Just kiss me, and then I'll decide," Killian grinned, pulling her close, wanting to eradicate the pain and sorrow from her eyes. Emma moved her mouth closer and softly joined her lips to his, her tongue gently outlining his lips, sucking his lip into her mouth and then pressing forward with a soft open kiss, pulling his tongue to her. She kissed him with a great deal of tenderness, touching him with loving hands. Of all the kisses they had shared, this one was special. It was about her touching him deeply, marking him as part of her family, but he could still feel her fear. In a blinding rush, he felt her, the hurling surge of anxiety and immobilizing fear that held her captive.

When the kiss was over, she wrapped an arm around his neck and held him close.

"You're still afraid for me, worried that this will touch me, through you," he whispered against her hair. Her pounding heart echoed in _his_ chest, a powerful rush of awareness flowed through him, and suddenly he could feel and understand what she could not say. Fear, being afraid, was an emotion she couldn't afford. Fear was crippling, and she refused to be handicapped by her own emotions. August was correct, she wasn't an innocent. She couldn't be, because the darkness defined her, forged her soul. "Chinese. If you order eggrolls,” he said, fighting back the lump in his throat.

Emma smiled and kissed his cheek. Jumping down, she grabbed the phone and started doing what she did best, ordering things. Killian watched in amusement as she argued over the telephone about what and how much she wanted. Leaving her to handle things, he went back to check on the work.

Later, Emma was sitting at a table eating Chinese noodles from a bowl and piecing together the story. Everyone else was sitting around eating, too. They all held pieces, but it was Emma who finally brought everything together. She passed Killian a paper with a list of ingredients on it.

"What's this?" he asked, licking grease from his fingers before taking the paper from her.

"It's the potion, the one the warrior princess made for her lover. Those are the ingredients required to make it. Basically, it's a recipe, but it’s missing instructions and amounts," she told him, leaning over to steal a large, fat shrimp from his plate.

Killian frowned at the list, "So, what does this mean for our investigation?"

"Well first, most of the ingredients are simple herbs, easily found in herbal shops, homeopathic stores, or new age occult shops. The problem is that there are no instructions. Is this potion meant to be ingested, poured over a piece of armor, or even a person? The main ingredient is blood, and that demands a sacrifice. Historically, the sacrifice would have been a strong person, say a brave warrior or a powerful enemy. It's like the Native American idea of _counting coup_. So many ancient civilizations ate their dead. It was believed that they were taking in all the greatness and strength of their slain brethren. So, the blood, the binding, is important."

"So they would want someone with special attributes to slay?" David asked from his seat just beyond Killian.

"Ideally, yes. However, it appears your murderer has been working on this for at least a few months. Marco was helping them. Now, I know Marco, so that means he was trying to help someone known to him, someone he couldn't refuse. It would've been someone who took an interest in his stories, in his work. I think you need to assume that this person has ties to him-perhaps family."

"We checked his family members, and nothing significant came back,” David said, his eyes glancing uneasily to Emma. “Marco’s body was released to his family, they will be burying him tomorrow.”

“I'll have Cap send someone over tomorrow to interview family members,” Killian added. “We will find out about family members living in Storybrooke, and anyone, family or otherwise, who was interested in his work." He looked through the list again. The herbs meant nothing to him. _Nightshade?_ "Isn't nightshade dangerous? Is all of this stuff okay to consume?"

"It could be as innocuous as an herbal tea,” Mary Margaret told them. “People use belladonna and arsenic for beauty aids, and even as medicine. The problem is the amount used. Any of these herbs could be poisonous in large amounts, especially any member of the nightshade family. So this makes me think that this potion is to anoint the armor, not drink. The blood was the binding agent to ‘bloody’ the armor for the kill."

"If the person drank it?" David's stomach turned at the thought of drinking blood.

"It could be poisonous, slowly killing them. This person seems too smart, I doubt they would drink it themselves. I think our unsub would try to anoint the armor and wear it, they would want to see if the properties passed to them," Mary Margaret answered. She watched as Emma searched for another eggroll.

Spying one on Killian's plate, Emma reached for it with her chopsticks. Without even taking his eyes off the paper he was reading, he tauntingly moved his plate out of her reach.

David watched the interaction with a small smirk. His money was on Emma. "So what went wrong?"

Emma turned her attention to David, ignoring Killian, and picking up from Mary Margaret. "It didn't work... obviously. It's just a legend! There is another artifact associated with this legend, one that would be stronger than the Guard’s armor. It's the warrior's blade, her dagger."

Killian looked over at Emma as he picked up his eggroll and took a bite. Emma's eyes narrowed at him until he passed her the remaining piece. While munching on his eggroll, he said, “I don't get it. I don't see why the dagger was important, or is important."

"Well, it has to do with the myth itself. It seems that around 69 B.C. when Caesar crossed the Rubicon, there were rumors of Roman armies entering the British Isles. Caesar was claiming all land for the Roman Empire. Anyway, in the British Isles they ran into the Celtics. The battles were bloody and costly. The Romans had never met such a barbaric race of people willing to die at all costs, making hellish noises, eating the dead, and setting the very waters on fire. Anyway, it is said that in a fierce battle, Caesar's Elite Guards were slain; and as Eala Dhiaga walked the fields, taking pleasure in the massacre, she came upon a still living man. He was a captain in the Elite Guard." Emma paused to take a drink as the others moved closer.

"Of course, he would be a captain. A lowly foot soldier wouldn't have fit the legend at all," Killian mocked, and the others had to agree.

"That's neither here nor there,” Emma chuckled before continuing the tale. “All that matters is she took him to her home in the earth, and there, over many seasons, she nursed him back to health. During that time, they became lovers. The soldier, tied by his code of loyalty and honor, returned to his position and once again fought at Caesar's side. Eala Dhiaga tried everything to keep him with her, but she understood his honor was something that drove him, so instead she created this potion and, forging her symbol into his armor, she tempered it with the potion, turning the metal into a strong impenetrable steel that was resistant to mere mortal weapons."

"I bet my Glock 9mm could do some damage!" All at the table turned to the sound of August's voice. He was slowly coming down the stairs still looking pale and sick, but better than he had before he took a nap.

"Well, since I doubt this potion would work, especially since there are no measurements, I think you are correct,” Emma told August, giving him a small smile as she moved over to him, while still addressing the group. “The murderer seems desperate to make this work. If they were trying to drink it, I’d think they would be cautious, like testing it out on a guinea pig or something other than him or herself. Either way, I think they're trying to find the dagger."

"Does the museum have it?" Killian asked stealing a glance at August as he searched through the packaging to find himself some food. If he didn't know August would throw a holy fit, he would remove him from the case due to physical illness.

Because August still looked weak, Emma helped him find some food as she talked. "I don't know. It’s possible Marco ordered it like the armor. So far, we haven't found any paperwork. Mary Margaret will have the rest of that tomorrow, so we'll look for it specifically. I have Al running a search for it among collections. It isn’t listed in the British Museum collection. There are only three other museums that possess artifacts from that dig's collection, two in California, and one in New York City." Reaching up, she felt August’s head and frowned at his feverish brow.

David, still confused, asked, "I still don't see why they need the dagger?"

"Well, Eala Dhiaga, the Warrior Princess, had to let her lover return to his people. She couldn’t come between his honor, despite her deep love for him. It wasn't long afterwards that she came across him fighting valiantly against her own people on the battlefield. Her spell of protection made him invincible, and he slaughtered her clan without remorse. She caught up to him on a Highland moor within a circle of standing stones built by the ancients. There they stood, face-to-face, locked in battle on opposing sides. There, in front of a sacrificial altar, he took the sword she forged for him and ran her through."

"Bastard! That's just like a man! Ungrateful and betraying her love!"

Emma chuckled at her grad student Mulan’s outburst.

"It was war! She would've understood. She was a warrior, too!" Al argued, defending the testosterone carrying members in the group.

"She understood it all right," Emma continued. "She drew her own dagger, which she’d blessed and forged in the same fires as his armor, and plunged it into his heart, cutting through his armor. The dagger was referred to as _Caliburnus_ , which later became called _Excalibur_." Emma delighted in the astonished expressions around the room. "They were buried together in the center of the standing stones, armor and dagger, but their legend lived on, and in the 1950's they were found again, and excavated."

Killian just shook his head. "So what is the dagger used for? You're not telling me we're trying to recover the mythical sword of King Arthur, _Excalibur?_ "

"No. Not really. The dagger would be important because it was forged in the ‘heart of the dragon’. It holds incredible magical power because she used it to sacrifice and procure blood for the spell. Your murderer probably sees it as the ultimate weapon to use in sacrifice. Now that they have the hard copies Tink found, they also know that the more pure or stronger the sacrifice, the more significant the results." Emma looked down at the table. "Marco knew. He didn't realize at first what was happening, but I think he knew. He said that absolute evil would consume the innocent and pure, and become stronger."

Al sat down on the corner of the table. "So how did the legend of Eala Dhiaga get mixed into Arthurian legend?"

"I’m not completely sure, but some believe that even after death Eala Dhiaga continued to live in the netherworld. It is said that she was caught within the power of the standing circle, and that she became the _Lady of the Lake_ , who passed _Excalibur_ to Arthur.”

"We should search Professor Geppeti's family tree again to find a connection," David strategized as he stood up to grab another drink. "What else should we do, now that we know what they want? This is sort of an occult thing."

"I'm certain it is occult, as much as one individual, one very sick individual, thinks they need power or strength. It doesn't matter really." Emma stood up and stretched, not noticing the male eyes watching her. August and Killian did, and both frowned. "I can tell you one thing... your murderer has been killing for about two months, right after they got the armor and the potion recipe from Marco. I suggest you look for other murders with sanguinary practices. They’ve been trying for a while, and it looks like they are getting desperate. Killing Sean was a mistake compounded by Marco, and now Tink. It's hard to be invisible when everyone is looking for you."

~*~

They’d planned to work all night, but Killian kicked everyone out before midnight. He didn't want them working on this any later than that. David left earlier, to make sure Mary Margaret got home okay, and to stop by the station to run a search for like crimes within the State of Maine that involved bloodletting. He returned an hour later, and stayed after the others left to talk with August and Killian. Emma left them drinking beer and discussing their case, to go take a bath.

David exceeded his alcohol limit and fell asleep on the sofa, and August still looked too ill to drink but managed a full beer before deciding to turn in for the night. He’d wanted to go spend the night at Killian's apartment again, but Killian took one look at him and decided that he wasn't in any shape to go anywhere.

"Jones, I like your apartment, but if I didn’t know better, I would’ve bet money you were celibate judging by the sparse decorations in your place. So, what's up? No money?" Killian frowned at August. Though he’d only had one beer, his speech was slurred, and he was waving on his feet.

"I’m neither celibate nor hard up for money, mate. I'm just not much into having a lot of clutter, but I did have more at one point. The girl from my last relationship decided to confiscate my entire house in payment for services not rendered," Killian said flatly.

"No shit! That’s just cold," August mumbled as Killian opened the door to his bedroom. The room was still a wreck, empty bottles littering the floor, and piles of August's dirty clothes were everywhere.

"Well, she was sort of a cold bitch. Look August, maybe you should take a shower or something."

"Naw! Fine, just peachy. I'm just wasted tired. Man, so is that what's with all the ice trays? The bitch was so frosty ya decided to make ice? Don't get it... and what's with Davie-boy in there, hugging a bottle of beer. Man, what a lightweight..." August's voice became thicker and quieter as he laid down in his bed; he fell asleep as his head hit the pillow.

Killian went back out and noticed David hadn't finished the beer in his hand, his second that Killian was aware of, and he too was out like a light. Taking the bottle from his partner and putting it in the recycle bin, Killian covered David up with a throw. Turning off the lights and checking the doors, which immediately turned on the security alarm, Killian went upstairs.

"Hey!" Emma said looking up from her bath when he entered the room. She was still drinking hot tea. It felt like she would never get herself warm again. "I thought you cops were going to talk over the case now that the civilians were gone."

"We did, love," he said with a smile. Emma looked at him pointedly. "Okay, we sort of did. David passed out, and August looked like a drunken sailor, so I tossed him into his bed and gave up."

"Killian, it was only about fifteen minutes," she said as she watched him undress. She moved forward, giving him room to join her.

"Yeah, well, David is a notorious ‘cannot hold his beer’ sort of guy, and August is looking way too sick to drink. He only made one beer before he looked like he was going to pass out," he told her while stepping into the warm water.

"He felt feverish earlier,” Emma commented. “I think he needs to go to the doctor. If he doesn't go on his own, I'm calling mom." She leaned back against Killian as his arms came up to hold her. "I've seen him drink his body weight in beer, and make a real dent in a bottle of liquor. This isn't like him at all, and he has been under the weather since the other night. It's probably his ulcer again. After Neal... after... anyway, he perforated his ulcer and spent time in the hospital with me. Mom's been trying to pressure him out of Vice for a long time, so this might be an opportunity."

"You’d do that? Sic your mum on the man when he's down?"

"Without a moment of hesitation. It'll take the pressure off Liam, having mom taking care of August."

Killian chuckled as he remembered the detailed description Emma gave him of the Nemo-Swan early warning system for getting Ingrid out of the way and distracted.

“So how come you call Ingrid ‘mum’ and August doesn’t?” Killian asked.

“I think it’s because I was in more need of a mother than he was. August has always had an independent streak, he never felt that hole that forms when no one needs you, but me, you know about my past, how I was returned to the group home, how Neal…” she shook her head, not wanting to think about that. “I needed someone who needed and wanted me, and Ingrid wanted to be that person.”

“So why did she never adopt you, I mean legally, I guess,” he probed.

“We didn’t need a piece of paper to say we are family, Ingrid, August, and me, we were all we needed, and five years ago, that circle grew to include Dak and Liam, and by extension Belle. Now, I have brothers who drive me crazy, and an overprotect father, and I couldn’t be happier.”

Later when they were in bed, Killian asked Emma softly, "Tell me something true?" She was rubbing his back; after they had gotten out of the bath, they turned off the lights in the bedroom and lit candles, making the room dreamlike.

"Hmm, okay... something true." Emma thought about it for a moment. "I hate peas. I'm convinced they are not a vegetable but some type of weed masquerading to trick us. I hate the way they mush in my mouth."

Killian turned over, as Emma lifted to let him, and then settled back down straddling him. "Okay, I can understand the peas thing, but now something true about your life."

"I don't know, I mean I thought the pea thing was pretty revealing."

"Emma..."

"Okay, okay... something else true. Raisins are a conspiracy by the grape growers of America."

Killian laughed and shook his head no. "Emma."

"No really! Think about it. You grab a handful; toss them into your mouth, and poof! Gone. Now in your mind, reanimate the mummified grapes and you realize that you just consumed a small bushel of grapes in just a handful. It's dastardly. It's an obvious conspiracy to glut the world fruit markets and hold it hostage. You thought the OJ contingency was bad, but uh huh, not so, grapes..." Emma smiled as he laughed. "Don't even get me started on cranberries," she warned with a delicate shudder.

"Okay, okay, stop it. No, tell me about New Orleans and the ‘house of ill repute’."

"Ah! The House of the Rising Sun!" Emma laughed. She should have known. "It’s been the ruin of many a poor boy-"

"Emma!"

"Been bothering you, huh?" Emma couldn't stop laughing.

"Swan!"

"Okay, okay. I'll tell you, but then you'll have to tell me something, Detective. Quid pro quo.”

Killian nodded. _Fine._ He could tell her something. "Agreed."

Emma smiled. "Well, it's not too sad a story, and not as interesting as you probably imagining. When I was sixteen, I was accepted to the University of Maine in the fall. Therefore, after I graduated high school early I had the whole summer to explore."

"So you left Storybrooke and went looking for adventure?" Killian watched her closely remembering how disturbing it was for him to imagine her alone in the world at sixteen.

"Yeah, pretty much. Ingrid was beside herself at the thought of me out there in the world all alone, but I convinced her to let me go. I wanted to see parts of America I’d dreamed of seeing as a kid, when I had no hope that the opportunity would ever arise for me to do so.”

She reached over to the bedside cabinet and rummaged through the cupboard until she retrieved a small bottle of massage oil. Squirting some in her hand, she went to work as she spoke.

“I traveled around some, spent weeks in New York, some time in Washington D.C., then flew out to California.” Emma kept rubbing his shoulders and arms while talking, spreading the massage oil along his skin almost methodically.

“Didn’t August go with you,” he asked, then groaned when she hit a tight knot of muscle along his clavicle.

“He wanted to, but he was in his last year of college with finals coming up, and I found it liberating doing it by myself. I was about to go to college, so this was something I felt I needed to do.”

"So, New Orleans?" Killian probed.

Getting off of Killian, Emma laid next to him real close to finish the story. "I made it to New Orleans, and the city was alive and fun. Too much fun! I found myself burning through my carefully hoarded savings, and finally I was close to not having enough money to even make it to back to Maine. That is when I met the ‘madam’ of the house."

"So, she offered you a job?" It disgusted Killian how people preyed on the young and defenseless.

"Yes, she did, but not the job you think. Now, as a madam of a house of ‘girls’ you would expect she would’ve had some interesting name like ‘Ms. Kitty’ or ‘Madam Farge’ or some other exotic name, but her name was Gwen. Just Gwen. She was nice, young, and she took one look at me and offered me room and board, and a job. At first I almost refused because I wasn't about to prostitute myself to anyone.”

"So you refused the job, but you still ended up in the house?" Killian asked intrigued.

"Well, yes I did. Gwen explained she wasn't offering to make me part of her stables, though I had great legs and killer eyes, and some of her clients go for... the young." Emma ignored the swearing from Killian. "But she didn't peddle young flesh, and only offered them girls ‘that looked young’, but were of an age of consent. No, she offered me a real job."

"How real?"

Emma smiled at his suspicion. _Always the skeptical cop!_

"Real enough. I was like a houseboy, or a general gopher. I kept the books and appointments; I assisted in the kitchen, ran errands, and helped with shopping and picking up dry cleaning, that kind of stuff, mostly. I did learn to give massages, but not to clients. Gwen was very careful to keep me away from her clients. She didn't want to have to refuse a customer my ‘services’, but then again I wasn't serving. No, I learned to give the girls massages. Amazing how stressful their jobs could be, and how tired and sore they got!" Emma laughed at his look of outrage. "God, they told me some great stories, and oh lordy... the details. I think I aged ten years in three months. I was surprised I survived without having gray hair. Did you know that a woman can perform-"

"Emma!" Killian wasn't sure he wanted to hear any of the stories she was offering. _Okay, maybe later._

Laughing, she took pity and stopped teasing him.

"Just tell me about the arrest."

"Oh, couldn't find any details, huh, Detective?" she goaded.

Killian's face gave him away. He had tried to find the arrest report and details, but the file had been sponged, wiped clean. All that remained was the arrest on her record and the release.

"There aren't any details to learn because the entire arrest was erased by the New Orleans P.D.," she explained, a hint of mischief in her expression.

"Erased? Why?"

"Well, the person who called in the raid was the Police Commissioner himself. He was a regular, mind you, and he and Gwen had a sort of tiff over something. What, I'm not sure. When the raid came, I was swept up with the rest of the girls, processed, and detained. Due to my age, Gwen was looking at charges of ‘white slavery’ among others. She told me not to worry and went into a room with the Police Commissioner. When she came out, we were all released, even me. That was the last problem we had that summer; I made enough to purchase a nice fare home, and have some extra money left over. It was an interesting summer, and when Gwen put me on the train, all the girls came to say goodbye. I still go to visit them whenever I'm in the city."

"Did she blackmail him?"

"Honestly? I haven't a clue. Blackmail, bribe, or sexual favor right there in the room, none of us knew or even asked. Gwen was a real class act. She just came out of the room, smiled at the officers, and asked them to please have her girls sent outside to the limo when they were cleared from booking. She personally led me out of the building with her, sat me next to her in the limo, and gave me a glass of champagne. I’ve always wanted to be that calm and self-assured. Nothing ever seemed to phase her."

"That's the story? The whole story?" he asked, suspicious of the sly smirk of her mouth, and the glimmer in her eyes as she nodded.

"Your turn,” she said with a hint of happiness in her voice. “And make it something ‘true’, Detective."

Killian thought for a quiet moment. His smirk quickly faded as he took on a serious look. "I hate peas, too."

Emma just looked at him and then suddenly jumped on him. "No welching on our deal, Pirate!"

Killian grabbed her and rolled around on the bed, stopping when he had her subdued under him. Looking down at her, suddenly serious, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her deeply. Emma's arms came up around his neck and pulled him fully against her. Before she let the kiss take them out of control, she pulled back and whispered to him, "Are you going to cheat?"

Killian shook his head no, and Emma smiled slightly. Killian was many things, but mostly he was fair, or tried to be. "Tell me something true then, something real."

Killian kept looking at her, running his hands through her silky blonde hair and watching the strands slide along his fingers. "I worked Vice for five years, several on the streets that were bad; the last two were the worst. The first year of the last three my brother, Liam, was still alive. I was young looking, able to pass for less than my age, so undercover, I could be a runaway or a person looking for connections and a break. I started as a runner for a minor numbers operation, but since all my runs were protected and I moved fast, I was promoted to bigger operations. After the first year people knew me, and I just blended into the scenery."

Emma smiled at that. "I've always thought of you as exceptionally noticeable, Killian. You're very… intimidating, hardly something to overlook."

"Well, there's a trick to it. When you’re trying to blend into a space, you must become part of the scenery, slouch or remain unobtrusive and people stop noticing you. You become background noise, almost blending into the walls. It was important. It put me places that no one noticed, and I heard things, lots of things." Killian closed his eyes as she moved her hands up to softly stroke his stubbled jawline. Reaching up, he took her hand and sucked her fingers into his mouth, liking how she gasped and held her breath. It excited him. "I was a real asset to the department, and my commander wanted me on the streets 24/7. That was until my brother died."

"What happened?" Emma’s breath was leaving her body in short gasps. His mouth was incredibly hot.

"He died, and I didn't. I was in between assignments and happened to be at the station that day. A young urban punk, high on designer drugs strolled into the office and pumped him full of lead. Liam bled to death in my arms, and it was as if I could feel his life slide away, his energy and spirit. One minute he was my brother, and the next, he was gone."

Emma pulled him close and kissed his lips. She could feel his pain. "I'm sorry, Killian. So sorry!"

"It was the drugs they gave me for shock that compounded the damage of losing my only family. I walked in a haze, disjointed, unable to feel anything, and they made me hallucinate. I went straight back on the streets after the funeral, and literally didn't come in from the cold for two years, not until David dragged me back."

Emma frowned. _That didn't sound right._ "I don't understand. Why would your department allow you to go out that long, or even return to duty before you were ready?" Emma felt anger at the obvious oversight by his superiors.

"Technically, they didn't order me out. In a drug haze, when David wasn't watching, I walked out the door, and two weeks later my commanding officer found me living on the streets in an alley with other homeless. I recognized him, gave him a report, turned over and went back to sleep. The information I gave him led to one of the largest drug busts in the history of the department. As a street person, I was even more invisible than I was as a numbers runner. The homeless are ignored, avoided, and people practice not seeing them. So instead of bringing me in, he left me there."

"Oh Jesus!" Emma couldn't begin to come to terms with how very wrong that was. They had used him.

"I was suffering from… I don't know... hallucinations, both visual and auditory. I saw things that felt like memories or something, but they were too whacked."

"What things?" Emma rubbed her other hand along his back in comfort, letting even more of his weight rest on her.

"Weird shit. Real weird. I saw battles and war. It was like a flash of blood and the people… I knew them, felt them. I was high on some psychotic drug that took months to clear my system."

"You were tripping."

Killian laughed without humor. "Oh yeah! Major trippin', like acid flashbacks, and it was scaring the people around me. People on the street learned to stay away from me, all except the children. The largest percentage of homeless is children. They're our dumped and abused unwanted. The children learned to sleep behind me, to hang with me. They knew I would watch over them and protect them. At night when the street runners and gangs would roam the alleys, the children would sink into nothing behind me, and I would sit, stone cold, with my gun ready to defend them. Once the danger passed, everyone would relax."

"Killian-" Emma wanted him to end the story, to stop it. It was too much for him, too much misery.

"I used to take the kids to the soup kitchen, and I’d force people to let them go first, so the kitchens wouldn't run out of food. The drunks and winos had their chance at life, it was the young and the old that needed it most." Killian snickered again. "By the last year, or what I think was the last year, my name changed. They started calling me Ratman. It was strange, but did you know that street people, the reason they wear so many clothes is that when they sleep the rats come out, and if any part of you, especially soft parts like your face are exposed, they will bite you and eat you. So the street people learn to sleep with their bodies covered from the rats, and their faces all bent up and hidden."

"Killian, please-"

"One night, I was tired, real tired, so I slept. I woke to the sound of a child crying. It was a young girl, her mom left her just for a few moments to check out a dumpster outside a restaurant that dumped its old food at the same time every night. A rat had crawled up on her, and it was eating her face. I picked up a rock and nailed the bastard, and then I rushed the girl to the emergency room. They didn't want to touch her, and by the time they saw her, it was too late. She bled to death in my arms, just like my brother."

Emma held her breath at the empty look, the emotionless way he talked.

"After that night, I sat up each night with a pile of rocks at my side, and threw them at the rats. I was good. Hardly ever missed one.”

"David got you off the streets? Made you come home?" Emma asked with trepidation. She silently thanked David Nolan, while sincerely wishing that wherever Killian's old commanding officer was now, he was rotting in hell.

"He found me. He told me he needed me to come home, that Regina, his sister was in trouble, and we needed to move someplace for her to start new. For Regina's sake, I came in, and the next thing I knew we were in Storybrooke, and the dreams went away. I only have them now when I get really tired."

"So you're close to David's sister. Regina?" she asked, looking sheepishly at him.

"Aye, she's like my sister, like you and August. That close."

Emma just nodded. She knew how she felt about Liam and August. Sometimes friends were closer than family. They were the family you chose. "Storybrooke was a new start for each of us, a chance to get away from the big city life of Boston, the violence, drugs, and crime. So far, Storybrooke has been… interesting." Killian looked at her pointedly.

Emma laughed. "Oh, and what does that mean? You met me and everything makes you wonder if you exchanged one type of hell for another? You poor baby!"

Killian let his voice drop to a woe begotten whisper, "I really should be compensated."

"You should!” she giggled, before a wave of earnest sincerity washed over her. “Look, I know that many things we do are just playing… and I, _ohh_ -" She wasn't sure how to say what she was feeling. But for once she knew she didn't want to take the important stuff, the emotional stuff, and trample over it, leading them back to just fucking. "I don't want to play games with you, or make you think this means nothing... dammit!" Emma was so lost in her plight to make Killian understand just how she was feeling that she hadn't noticed his maneuvering at first, but the body that slid up against her back as he turned her was most definitely, emphatically naked, naked, and wanting, and hot, hot, _hot_! He’d turned her fully in his arms and was touching her in so many places that Emma couldn't distinguish them one from another.

"It's not a game," Killian mouthed against her shoulder.

"I know, I know," Emma gasped, squirming under his tongue when it traced her shoulder blade. Her acquiescence, she could give him that much at least.

"Do you, love?" Killian asked, and Emma felt that tongue slip down her back, a wet warm stripe that made every hair on her body stand on end. The nuzzling scrape of his scruff rasped against her skin pulling it deliciously, but it was the gentle nipping of his teeth followed by his hot mouth sucking on her skin that pushed her over and made all thought drain from her brain.

"Oh my God... you feel good." Her voice sounded far away now, dreamy, and yeah, apparently Killian was back in that mood of wanting to _do things to her_ , and that was something she felt willing to do. They’d both had a long, hard day. Between losing Tink, and their own pasts catching up to them, they needed each other’s comfort, here and now.

This, she realized with a slow birth of awareness as a touch or taste of energy hit her, was Killian wanting her. His desire. It was becoming a living, tangible thing. She could _feel_ desire soaking into her from his touch, overwhelming for being coupled with such control. Killian was wanting, absorbing, sensing her, and climbing inside her. She could feel it almost like an intrusion, but with him, she no longer had any barriers. It made her shiver harder, even more turned on by him. It made her make one last-ditch effort to be on the giving end, knowing as she did so that the offer was paltry at best. "I... you want... what should I-"

"I'll let you know," Killian replied softly as he turned her under him again and took her nipple into his mouth, and Emma surrendered.

Warm, strong hands traveled everywhere, and the slick, hot, sharp bite of teeth and tongue from her shoulders to her waist jolted and soothed her at the same time. His skilled touch drew all sensation up to scattered, fierce points of pleasure that made her hiss. Emma needed him everywhere. The only thing wrong was she couldn't kiss him while he was moving all over the place, too fast for her to keep track. The bedding was surprisingly abrasive on the exquisitely sensitive skin of her body which was exceedingly stimulated, and overheated. At some point, she thought she moaned about that convincingly, but if she did, Killian took no notice; he simply kept on. Pushing her even higher, ignoring everything but giving her pleasure.

When Killian suddenly came up her body, and stroked the hair back from her temple with a touch that spoke to her of tenderness, Emma had to shut her eyes. She had to. He’d moved too deep inside her, further than physically, and it was hard to surrender everything to him all at once.

"Go ahead Emma, tell me what you want. I won't stop unless you tell me to. I'll give you anything you want."

Emma had no answer, not a single word to say about that, because his request left her breathless. She couldn't understand how people like Mary Margaret could ever think him unkind. Killian was everything... perfect.

Completely pliable to his attentions, she let him turn her once more. Her body was abuzz just knowing he was taking his pleasure in her, and she was all too willing to let him. His hands parted her shaking thighs, allowing his body to lay between them, as he ran his hands down her legs. Killian's tongue streaked wet fire from the back of her calf up, up, and _up_ towards her ass and her body arched into it of its own accord. His hands came to her waist to hold her firm while he continued to move lovingly up her spine. Stretching his body heavily along her back, one arm moved up hers and joined their fingers together over their heads, while his mouth found the back of her neck.

Emma sucked in a deep whoop of dizzying air, even while the rest of her started melting gently. Her body rolled bonelessly on waves of sensuality that went deeper, and lower, and sweeter until all she could hear were her own eager, ecstatic, euphoric moans. She wasn't shaking anymore, but now she seemed to be trembling _inside_. Her internal controls had gone right off the scale; while the addictive and instantaneous physical connection with Killian had been new to her, this was also the first time she’d allowed someone to carved a hole in her heart and make themselves a home there. Emma would have cursed at him, angry that he moved in without her having any real say, but she did have a say, and despite her fears, she’d invited him anyway. Nothing would ever feel that risky or fearless again.

Emma had no control, no connection with her own body, it seemed like she was floating above it, witnessing how utterly lost in him she was, watching Killian loving her gently. He put an arm around her waist and lifted her up, pulling her back to his front. He sat back on his heels and moved her into his lap, then pressed into her without much effort. They both moaned as they moved forward a little to place their joined hands on the railing, to hold on tight, as he slid in and out of her. They were connected to each other, locked together with a depth of passion that made Emma want to give him more than she already had. Devotion. It felt like devotion Killian was offering her, a devotion his hollow soul had soaked up as if he'd been waiting forever, waiting always with a distant longing for Emma to find him, to give him this. To give him her very self.

Something deep inside pulled at her and Emma slammed back into awareness, unprepared for these depths they were exploring. She was fairly certain she couldn’t have prepared for this, because how could you prepare for something you hadn’t been aware existed. The moment she came back to herself and felt his body, all the sensations along with an explosive need rolled in on the next cresting wave of pleasure. Emma was still not ready for any of it, and definitely not ready for the exquisite clarity in finding herself fluttering and spasming around Killian, crying out with an unrestrained need for him.

Killian smiled against her back, kissing her skin when he felt her orgasm. He rode the swells of her bliss and basked in the rush of her feelings that were beautifully tangled in confusion. He made her confused, and that he liked. It was like getting a piece of himself back.

"Don't be afraid," he panted against her neck.

Emma only nodded at his words. What was the use anyway? They’d already forged a bond that scared the hell out of them both. The time to escape or be cautious was long since gone.

"It’s too much."

Killian turned her head and kissed her hard on the mouth. _Too late._ He whispered her name to her, just so she knew exactly who she was, affirming that her name wasn't one he was going to forsake or forget, ever. He didn’t like to surrender any more than she did, but if he had to let go, so did she, and they might as well let go together, where they could catch each other. Killian held her tight as he felt the surging heat coursing through her body, and when she was finally breathing again he moved, pushing deeper, longer strokes inside her.

Emma's eyes ached from being squeezed so tightly. She paid no mind to the aching need in her body, but just kept her eyes shut, closed tight against everything while Killian stroked her, slowly stretching her insides, pulling out, and finally easing back into her with skilled gentleness. He made Emma wish there was pain, something else to focus on; something to take the edge off the raw emotions that passed between them adding to the ecstasy of him moving deep inside her. _Fucking was easy to take, easy to work around, but this?_ He was making her need him too much, want him too much, and she was subconsciously coming to depend on him.

Drawing it out, he played her body with precision, pushing her to the edge and holding her there. The first time he went deep and hard, she came again. Throbbing and moaning out the suffering long moments as Killian waited patiently, soothing her with soft kisses behind her neck, her ear. He was hard and wanting sheathed inside her, but still he waited, waited for her. He buried his face into the softness of her hair, not trusting any words that might escape him in this moment.

Killian took her for an eternity, a slow measureless stretch of forever. At some point his hands came around her body so that the next time Emma orgasmed, he was _everywhere;_ around her, inside her, surrounding and pervading her, taking everything she was, except for that little piece closed off behind her eyes. And it was _good!_ Deeply, staggeringly good with Killian inside her like that, but it was no longer only her experience. Because even while she came apart she could feel him, shuddering fiercely and dripping with sweat, but still so controlled, still waiting, still locked into this give and take, as if he was wordlessly trying to make her understand something about them.

In the end, all she could feel was a timeless reverberation of her body understanding his, and all she could hear was his voice telling her who he was, and who they were together, and yes, she knew who he was, she knew who they were. Then, finally Killian was coming inside her, and she felt how much they were both _loving it._ And in the midst of it, over her heartbeat and under her skin, as she lay lax, absorbing the strength of him, the weight of him, the heat of him inside, all she could think was Killian had been right. Killian was _right_. _They_ were right

Whatever they were doing, they weren't playing. Whatever this was, it sure didn't feel much like a game, or just fucking. As they drifted to sleep, still joined together, Emma wondered just what _this_ was.

~*~

 


	13. Defining Moments

**Chapter 13: Defining Moments**

"What ya got, David?" Killian asked, looking over at his partner reading the reports handed to him by a uniformed officer.

"Nothing has come back so far on possible like killings. Information systems is linking our reports to the National Crime Database, and running specifics to any similarities with our crimes. They predict having a full run by late this afternoon, but currently there are no known murders in the state of Maine with a matching signature,” David explained, knowing Killian wouldn’t like his report.

Killian was disappointed. He had hoped Emma was correct, and they would find more.

They’d left Emma and the others working at the condo. August was currently at his desk running Marco's family background again. If possible, he looked paler than the day before. Killian caught him vomiting in the men's room earlier and almost suggested he go to the doctor or stand down. The look August gave him made him swallow his suggestion.

Emma had told him August had suffered from chronic ulcers since he was eight years old. Living and growing up in the system wasn't exactly stress-free, especially as he lived through Emma’s torture, and tried as hard as a young boy could to protect her from a psychotic boy. In addition, over the past few years, August hadn't avoided triggering behaviors to help the situation. Working in Vice, drinking, occasionally smoking, and late nights with little to no sleep were wearing him down. Killian was hoping they could solve this case before the man perforated his ulcer. The vomiting up blood wasn't a good sign, so they were running out of time in more ways than one. It was obvious August wouldn't step down until the bitter end, and Killian wasn't looking forward to having to report the problem to Cap.

"You need anything, mate?" Killian asked, concerned.

"Yeah, for you to fuckin' back off, _mate_!" August coughed and spit more blood into the sink. He looked over and cursed at the look on Killian's face. "Don't even think it, Jones. I'm taking my ulcer medicine. If we don't get a break in the next twenty-four hours, I'll take myself into the hospital. Okay?"

Killian stared at the man. This was insane! He should put him on a mandatory medical leave of absence.

August watched the chasing emotion on Killian’s face, knew what he was thinking. "Killian, I know it looks bad, but I've lived through this a few times. I know what I'm doing. I can't step down! Not now," August reasoned.

"August-"

"Killian, please? I'm feeling this too closely. My family’s involved. Emma. She's... she and Ingrid, they're all I've got! I can't fail them this time, so don't do this to me."

Killian sighed. This was bullshit, total bullshit. He meets a pain-in-the-arse woman who makes his life nothing if not interesting, and with her comes all her pain-in-the-arse family and friends, and now here he was making decisions he knew he shouldn't make! Bloody hell, what the fuck was going on? He was definitely losing his edge.

"Okay, you've got twenty-four hours, and no more. I find you puking your guts up again, you go immediately, even if I have to drag you there myself. Is that clear?"

August looked at Killian and nodded.

"Don't fuck with me August! I'll call Ingrid if I have to!" Killian smiled evilly at the rush of terror crossing August's face. Damn, Ingrid Arden must be tougher than he was! Just her name struck fear into the heart’s of men.

"You're a real bastard, Jones. You know I almost felt sorry for the hell my womenfolk were going to wreak in your life, but now... now I think you deserve it. Heartless prick."

~*~

By lunchtime they had cleared all possible places Professor Geppeti could have stashed the armor, with no luck. David, August, and Killian split up the professor's neighborhood and did interviews with his neighbors, trying to determine if the professor had more visitors than usual during his last days, or if anything unusual had happened over the past few months.

They decided to swing by the condo to check on how the rest of the investigators were progressing. Killian suspected this plan was more oriented around the fact Emma had probably ordered food for everyone, and both August and David were starving. His suggestion to hit a greasy burger joint fell on deaf ears, so they made their way to the docks.

Killian told August if this kept up much longer, they were going to have to stop by the finance office and pick up a requisition form to put in an expense report for the case and get Emma some of her money back, since she was paying for all the food.

August just gave him a strange look and shrugged. "I wouldn't worry about it, Jones. Emma will let you know if she feels the need for compensation. I think she sees this as doing her part for Sean, Marco, and Tink, so let's just let her do what she wants."

Killian nodded, but still worried about them eating through Emma's money since she was currently on a leave of absence.

When they got to her home, it appeared both David and August were correct. Emma had arranged for the delivery of food from a local sandwich shop. This time they sent all the sandwich fixings with a supply of bread and spreads. The workers were busy making themselves something to eat. Both August and David hurried over to help themselves to food while Killian went to find Emma. She was outside in the garden, sitting on a large stretch of driftwood, her gaze out to the water, talking on the phone.

"Okay, no that's fine." Emma paused when she heard the door open and turned to look at Killian, smiling she gestured him to wait. "No, really mom, I understand. I promise! I'll keep an eye on them, especially Liam and Belle. No, I'll call her doctor myself! No! Really, mom, I swear if it was serious I'm sure Belle would’ve mention it. No, I promise, and if it's bad I will personally see she is put at the top of a kidney list... mom, I don't think you need to donate your kidney! No, I'm positive! Okay, okay... yes, yes... go save those birds! Yes, love you too! Bye." Emma quickly disconnected.

"Your mum?" Killian smiled as he moved closer to her, invading her personal space.

"Uh huh. She's on her way to some wildlife refuge to protect the unprotected, save a mountain, and harass park rangers," she told him.

Killian nodded his approval. From what he heard about Ingrid Arden, the farther she was away from this mess, the better. "Are you okay with that?" he asked as he took her into his arms, smiling when she put her arms around his neck and her hands immediately delved into his hair.

"Oh, definitely okay with it," she confirmed.

They just looked at each other for a silent moment and then Killian closed his eyes as her mouth came closer to his.

David looked up to ask his partner if he wanted something to eat. Not seeing him immediately, his eyes searched the area. He finally located him outside in the garden, kissing Emma. David cursed under his breath and looked away. These two were slowly driving him crazy! First they woke him up last night with their fucking, which hadn't ended in any sort of quick and timely fashion, but add that to the interrogation room, and David was finding himself... unsettled.

The previous Friday, he’d followed Killian to Interrogation Room Four. He was worried Emma wouldn't be able to settle Killian. Going into the dark room behind the two-way glass, he had stood entranced at seeing the two of them together. After remaining there longer than he should have, David rushed out of the room and stood outside the closed door, red-faced. He stayed there for a while to make sure no one else entered the room, until finally he took himself off to the nearest bathroom.

More than one person had noticed the couple leaving the room, how disheveled they looked, and it was hard to not notice the improvement in Jones's mood. David ignored all the different people who wanted to know what happened between the Cap's daughter and Jones. It became a hotbed of discussion. Killian just ignored the looks and whispering. David was the only one who appeared embarrassed.

He could have handled their relationship better if it wasn't for the sheer volume of sexual energy they seemed to generate. It was daunting to feel the magnitude of it, compare it to one's own life and find it sadly lacking.

When Mary Margaret came over to talk to him, grabbing a sprout from a container on the counter, it took David a few moments to notice her.

"David?" Mary Margaret frowned and followed David’s glance. Killian and Emma were still kissing in the small garden. That seemed to be everyone's favorite topic. It was hard to miss how close the couple were, and the entire P.D. was interested in the affair, already placing bets on how long it would last. Mary Margaret put money on marriage. As far as she could see, the couple looked like they were in it for the long haul.

"Sorry, Mary Margaret, did you need something?" David asked distractedly, his mind preoccupied with his thoughts.

Mary Margaret frowned at his distracted tone. She was used to him paying her more attention lately, but over the past few days, he seemed to almost not notice her at all.

"I'm almost done organizing the request forms. The mailroom at the university is sending their duplicate delivery forms, and Al has a lead on the missing dagger. The New York University is going to call us back later this afternoon with information. It appears the dagger had been in their collection since the 1950's, but they loaned it out five years ago to a museum in Milwaukee. The director of the museum in Milwaukee has yet to return our call."

"Okay. How are Ruby and the technical support team doing?" David turned away from watching Killian and Emma and settled his attention on Mary Margaret. She looked different somehow; beautiful as always, but today there was a dazzling glow about her.

"They're still finding more accessible articles, but nothing that can give them a detailed account of the warrior princess's potion. So far, the best they could find was the same list of ingredients that we already have. Something interesting though, Al found some references to the theory that the blood bond between the Elite Guard and Eala Dhiaga was timeless. It suggested that the two were reborn or reincarnated endlessly, until in one lifetime, they find each other and do not betray one another. Emma thinks it's a bunch of crap. Her words, not mine!”

David frowned at Mary Margaret. "So maybe our killer thinks they are the reincarnation of the Elite Guard soldier or even the warrior princess. Maybe they are trying to initiate the spell of power to find their ‘soulmate’, or to vanquish them."

"I don't think a _soulmate_ would do that much harm to their eternal mate. They should recognize each other from the moment they meet, and against all odds, should try to remain together." Mary Margaret knew she was a sucker for a happy ending, but this story was a timeless one, repeated endlessly with famous couples in history that ended tragically. The theory itself was utterly romantic.

"It's just a legend,” David said with some frustration. “God, we're dealing with a real whacked person if they believe all this crap!"

“I think it’s really rather sweet,” Mary Margaret countered. “It gives me hope that there’s someone out there for everyone. They just need finding.”

David felt her words in his soul, as though they were calling to him, awakening him. Unsettled, he turned to look at Ruby when she came over. "Ruby, do you have enough of a support team here, or do you need more?"

"I think we’re doing fine. The support teams are leaving by four this afternoon to take the manuscripts back to the P.D. The graduate students have pretty much combed through all the information they can find. So, by this evening, we should be down to a more manageable skeleton crew," she reported as she passed David a few sets of papers, one with the legend printed out, another with the information obtained today, and finally what was known of the warrior's potion. "This is all really romantic stuff, but most legends are," she added eagerly, unwittingly agreeing with Mary Margaret.

August joined them, drinking some water. He smiled at Ruby and then acknowledged Mary Margaret. Both women frowned at his physical condition.

"August? God, are you okay?" Mary Margaret asked, her hand reaching out to his forehead much like Emma had the previous day. She looked at him with worry. He was very different from the physically fit man she first met in his boxers not too long ago.

Ruby echoed Mary Margaret’s concern. "Mary Margaret is right, August. You look terrible. Don't tell me you're still hungover from the other night?"

"No, more than likely it’s my ulcer acting up. Don't worry, as soon as this case is over, I'll take a few days of downtime before returning to Vice." August smiled at Ruby with a twinkle in his eye. "I take it you sprang back from too much tequila?"

Ruby laughed at his question, and pushing her arm through his, she led him away from David and Mary Margaret. "Don't think I didn't suffer! The next day I thought I was going to die, it took me almost two days to feel somewhat normal!" Ruby reached up and pushed her fingers through his hair. "I think the next time... we should definitely get more than two hours of sleep, and maybe for an evening when we both have the next day off."

August laughed at that. Hell, next time? Right now, that seemed like a long time down the line before he would be fit enough to consider abusing his body again, or letting her abuse him. August laughed louder when Ruby patted his arm and walked off saying the one thing guaranteed to make him spit out his drink. "Just don't lose the present I gave you, and next time... let’s add in your cop issued restraints. They're so much harder to get out of than those leather straps."

~*~

David, Killian, and August left them early in the afternoon to chase down a few other leads, including a storage facility Professor Geppeti had rented two years previously for old family furniture. They spent two hours searching through the unit, going through the wardrobes, tallboys, and trunks. Killian looked through a stack of old family photos and felt the lack of real family in his life. Geppeti came from a very rich background.

Liam Jones had been his only real family. His parents were non-entities; he had no memories of his mother, and his father was best forgotten. Liam had been his role-model, his moral compass, the kind of person he aspired to be. They had traveled the world on a sailing ship, working with the crew, as part of Liam’s way of proving to Killian there was more to life than drinking and womanizing. Then when Liam had joined the police force, Killian had followed, hoping to please his brother.  For years, it had just been the two of them, and then Liam died, and Killian was alone.

Killian couldn't imagine having so many people in his life that belonged to him. Putting the old photos back, one caught his eye. Looking at the picture of the young woman in black and white, about sixteen years old, Killian turned it over and read the name. _Anita_. Grabbing his report, he searched through the fact sheets he had on Geppeti, and located the name. She was Geppeti's youngest sister, born after his family had come to America. There was no information on the young woman because she died at an early age. Killian looked at the picture again, and then slid it under the paperclip on the Geppeti report. The picture bothered him, and eventually he would figure out what it was that drew his eye.

Killian looked at David and August. "Anything?"

Both men shook their heads no.

"Well, this was a long shot anyway. We could hope Professor Geppeti had stored or hidden the armor, but I think we can safely assume the killer has it, and it’s the dagger that's still missing." Killian rubbed the back of his neck. Fucking _Excalibur_. What next? _The Holy Bloody Grail_? "Let’s head back to the condo and see if there's anything new on the dagger."

The group at Emma’s had dwindled since lunch. Emma was busy on the phone talking to a director at a university in New York City. There was no documentation of the dagger being loaned out to anyone but the Milwaukee museum, and she was still waiting to hear from them. The director's secretary informed them the director would be in budget meetings all day, but would call before leaving that evening.

Ruby and Mary Margaret were busy discussing the case and the type of person who had to be involved. The men joined them and waited for Emma to finish her phone calls. Dusk was already falling. The evening skies had darkened, and it looked like rain.

When August's cell rang, they all sat quietly, waiting to see if it was new information. It wasn't. It was about Gold.

"Jefferson got a tip on Gold," he told the group.

Both Killian and David sat up straighter. Gold, the cop-killing bastard they’d been trying to arrest for the last six months.

"What's going down?" Killian asked, standing up and moving closer, David following. Emma frowned as August reached for his jacket.

"Word is that he’s moving a load of designer drugs tonight, that his own trucking fleet is on the move. Jefferson’s snitch says there’s activity down by the loading docks of International Shipping, a company that went bust about three years ago," August said.

The three men suddenly moved together as one. David pulled his phone, placed the call for S.W.A.T teams, and talked to Cap.

On their way out the door, Killian turned back to the three silent women. Swearing under his breath, he stopped and detoured back to Emma. Reaching down he tilted her head, and kissed her passionately before resting his forehead against hers.

"You're to stay out of trouble until I get back. Is that understood, love?"

Emma nodded silently, her hands clutching his shoulders, not wanting to let him go. Reason and rational thinking finally found a way inside, and despite her desire to keep him with her, she finally stopped clutching him.

"I promise to go nowhere without Mary Margaret and Ruby. Is that what you want to hear?" Emma asked, looking at him with clear green eyes filled with worry.

"No, what I want to hear is that you will stay out of trouble, and try not to worry. I promise to be back as soon as I can." Killian kissed her again. "Promise me!"

"I promise, if you promise to come back safely," she bartered, lifting her hand to cradle his head, and thread her fingers through his hair.

Killian smiled at that. "I always do."

"Okay. Go get your bad guy," she instructed. Emma watched Killian turn to leave when a thought occurred to her. "Hey! Detective! Do you wear those cute uniforms with Kevlar vests?"

Killian looked back at her, to see her smiling wickedly and Killian could almost feel the sweat break out on his back. "Aye, why?" he asked with a lopsided smile.

Emma grabbed him back to her, and pulled him into a long deep kiss, then whispered not too quietly, "Ooooh, wear it home!”

David and August looked at each other, each one encouraging the other to tear Killian away from her. Once they were on their way, Killian rubbed a hand across his face. Looking at August's silent face, and sighing, Killian just had to know.

"She's going to be the death of me, isn't she, mate?”

August looked at Killian and shook his head. Some men were just too slow. All August could say was, "Dead man walkin'." He turned back and looked out the window, mentally preparing for the coming bust while trying to quell the rocking acid motion of his stomach.

"I was afraid of that," Killian mumbled.

~*~

Ruby continued to work on the computer as Emma and Mary Margaret sorted and compared the duplicate delivery receipts to the ones from the museum. Mary Margaret had generated a list, so they were checking off the ones the mailroom had, compared to the ones found at the museum. The phone rang, and Emma was quick to answer. She was hoping it was Killian, but also terrified it would be _about_ him.

"Hello? Yes, this is Professor Swan." Emma paused and listened. "Dr. Sebastian! I can't thank you enough for returning my call. Yes, the _Caliburnus_ is the artifact I am trying to find," she answered excitedly. "I see. And it was shipped when? At Professor Geppeti's request?" Emma frowned taking her list of artifacts requested and received. Reading the entire list for the hundredth time, she wasn't surprised that the dagger was not on the list. "No, I understand completely. No, sir, I assure you I will be reporting the theft immediately with both the police and the insurance company. No. That won't be necessary. I'll be in touch."

Both Ruby and Mary Margaret listened with interest. They waited as Emma finally hung up the phone and took a stack of delivery receipts from Mary Margaret's pile. Emma searched through stack after stack of fragmented triplicate forms consisting mostly of white and yellow. The delivery receipts were in three colors. White was the main receipt, which was filed, the yellow was given to a special auditor in the finance department for insurance purposes, and the pink copy was given to the requesting department after the receiver of the delivery signed the copies.

Emma found one copy. A yellow copy, the one sent to the finance office. The original request form, the requisition form, and shipping and delivery forms were missing. The mailroom’s copy was also gone. It was pure luck that the yellow copy still existed. Emma looked down at the signature. Belle French. Showing it to the other two, Emma quickly picked up the phone and called Belle at the Nemo's house.

"Belle? Oh, hi Liam, I need to talk to Belle real quick. Is she around?" Emma stopped and listened as she heard Liam calling through the house for Belle to get the phone. "What? Yes, yes I know! She called me earlier today to tell me she was going. Oklahoma will never be the same! Absolutely!" Emma laughed when suddenly Belle came on the line. "Belle! I’m so sorry to be calling so late. What?" Emma laughed. "No, I have no doubt that Liam is a remote hog. Eww! No way! That is too cliché male. No one really watches ESPN twenty-fours a day. No, I refuse to believe..." Emma looked over at Mary Margaret and Ruby, and suddenly remembered why she called. "Belle, sorry, I just needed to ask you a quick question. Do you remember receiving a delivery maybe two weeks ago? It was a late Friday delivery for the museum."

Emma stopped and listened to Belle for a moment. "No, it would have been the Friday before Sean was killed." Belle was trying to place the date when suddenly it hit Emma. _No wonder the killer targeted Belle!_ They had removed all evidence the dagger was ever requested or received by the museum, and when they removed the white copy from the mailroom, they discovered Belle was the receiver. But they had missed the yellow copy, because that copy had been sent to the financial officer. "Belle, no I remember now, too! Yes, I know where it is. Okay, no you rest. I'll talk to you later. No, I promise."

Emma disconnected and looked at the other two women. "We need to go!"

Mary Margaret looked at the determination on Emma's face, her gut telling her she wasn’t going to like this. "Go where? Emma? Where are we going?"

"The university. I know where the dagger is." Emma rushed to pick up her jacket, hurrying around the place checking the doors.

"No, we're not!"

Emma stopped and looked at an angry Ruby.

"Excuse me?" Emma blinked at the brunette.

"We're not charging off all alone into the night. Killian would kill us, and-"

"Look, I know what you're going to say! I realize this is foolish, but in truth, I've had this object in my possession for almost two weeks! I didn't even know it, and it's cost more than I can ever begin to measure. I want it found and taken to the Storybrooke P.D. now!" Emma pulled on her red leather jacket, and pulled out her keys. "I can't wait another day, another hour, or even another minute. I cannot lose anyone else in my life, I won’t lose to the bastard that took Tink and the others, I refuse to let them win. Therefore, you two have a two choice to make. You can come with me and protect me," Emma tried not to scoff at the idea that these two women could protect her. "Or you can stay here. Either way, I'm going to my office."

"Emma, I've been through your entire office. There was no delivery there," Mary Margaret said hastily as she grabbed her coat from the couch. She doubted she could stop Emma, but she would rather visit Hell than explain to Killian how she let Emma go.

"Wrong office, Mary Margaret. The damn thing was delivered to the wrong place." Emma headed for the door with Mary Margaret and Ruby on her heels.

~*~

Killian pressed up against the building, cursing softly under his breath. _Where the bloody hell was David?_ Peering into the dimming light as the day moved to night, his vision made worse by the closed condition of the old warehouse they were moving through, Killian searched for his partner. He could see August cautiously working his way along the other side of the alley.  

Waiting for a count of ten, Killian moved forward again, trying to keep an eye out for his partner. The Storybrooke P.D. SWAT teams were slowly moving through the warehouse, surrounding a centrally lit area. Killian found his position and stopped to gather his bearings. A movement along his back and a hand on his shoulder alerted him that his partner had caught up to him.

David quietly motioned that in three minutes the rear teams would be in place. Looking up, Killian checked the upper support beams and catwalks lining the upper light matrix. He saw two team members settle into place. Finally checking the opposite side, he motioned to August who responded with an all clear and set signal.

The entire crew blended into the shadows once they were completely in place. Killian looked out of the darkness at the lighted work area where three men in white lab coats were chopping crystal white coke into commercial portions. The drying trays were filled, and one lab technician kept checking the purity of the mix. Killian could smell the ether in the air and shook his head to clear it.

The noise of new people moving into the work area alerted the team; the time to move was upon them. Killian frowned at the new voices, trying to distinguish the tones into clear words. A few more men showed up, and one expensively dressed man stopped to talk to the main lab worker.

"...I don't care. This stuff was supposed to be processed and packaged, ready for transport."

"...the heaters aren't drying it fast enough..."

"Do I look like excuses are what I need? I have orders to fill and if this junk isn't loaded within the hour and moving, I can't make my deliveries. That's money wasted, credibility lost, and all around bad business!"

"Look, I told you. We can't cook any faster. If we turn the heaters up any higher it will burn the batch and set the ether in the air up in flames."

The suit calmly held out his cell to the lab tech, watching smugly as the man stepped back from the phone. "Perhaps you would like to explain to the boss himself what the delay is?"

"Shit, no... um, wait... I can get it done." The suit pushed the phone into the man's hand and walked off to check the operation, staying clear of the bright drying heaters and lights. The fumes were lethal from processing cocaine.

Killian listened as the lab tech whined into the phone, and watched as the suit made eye contact with another of Gold’s men, one who was holding a phone to his own ear. Eventually, this man disconnected from his call and nodded once at the man in the suit.

Turning around, the suit took out a gun and looked the lab technician in the eye, and with a cold nod of his head, shot him in the forehead, dead center.

Turning to the other workers who dropped under the drying tables at the sound of the gun, he found the dead man's partner, another chemist, happy to trade his talents for a big payoff. "You're in charge now. Get it dried and packaged, fast! Or..." The suit nodded toward the dead body.

The scared man looked down at his dead partner, terror on his face and nodded his understanding.

The suit looked at his man and told him to get the processed junk loaded. Critically it looked like about eighty percent of the cutting and processing of the raw product was complete, but the other twenty were in the drying trays. "Get the finished product loaded in the trucks, the rest will be ready soon. Go." His cell phone rang. The man calmly reached down and took it from the hand of the dead man, using his foot to push his body away.

"Sir." The man listened to the voice on the other end, and Killian leaned up against the crate he was behind with David, straining to hear. Gold obviously wasn't on site; his front man was. "Yes, sir, the operation is back underway. There is over eighty percent ready with the remaining still drying. No, the place is set... sir." The man hung up looking decidedly sick. It took another thirty minutes as the loaders started packing away the drugs, the suit looked menacingly at the chemist the whole time.

A large commotion started from the back of the warehouse and moved forward as a large group of men in suits came into the lighted area. The central man was an average height man, his hair a dark brown that looked to be graying. His face was hard, his eyes unyielding as he looked at the surrounding area with an overwhelming intensity. Gold. It had to be Gold. No one really knew him or could describe him, and even as Killian viewed him, the man continued to turn his head making it impossible for Killian to get a real clear view of the details of his face.

Unexpectedly, the man turned and stared in the direction of David and Killian, then turning back, he drew his gun and shot the original suit. He spun quickly on the spot and shot three of the men he’d arrived with, and then almost in slow motion, he reached into his pocket, took out a cigarette case, lit one, then looked toward Killian's position again, with a flick of his wrist, the man tossed his lit cigarette into the manufacturing area. Killian watched the cigarette in horror, seeing August and the others quickly diving for floor, Killian pushed David over and hit the deck himself.

The ether ignited and the resounding explosion sent a percussion wave followed by a full bank of fire over the room. Killian and David kept their heads down as the force of the explosion caused the windows in the warehouse to explode in a rain of glass. When the first wave of the explosion passed, Killian was quickly up, his gun drawn, as was August across the way. Killian surveyed the damage, swearing the entire time. The chemists were all fried, and there were five dead men on the floor. The cooking drugs had exploded into a cloud of airborne death and Killian could feel the hot particles on his skin, trying to make its way into his lungs. Grabbing his partner, he pushed David out of the room, as August and the others quickly followed with the fire raging behind them.

The group of them huddled around the support vehicles and ambulances as firefighters rushed around, trying to control the blaze before it jumped to other buildings. They were all wearing masks to protect against the cocaine cloud with both David and Killian sucking down oxygen at an E.M.T. area, while August was washing out his mouth and cleaning his eyes. Killian could feel his eyes burning, his nose and throat felt like they’d been stripped open. Taking a bottle of water, he rinsed out his mouth for what felt like the hundredth time while David let a paramedic wash out his eyes.

August was cursing a solid stream of obscenities that had Killian smiling, impressed. Both Killian and David held out their hands for money from August, when the man saw their hands he swore even louder. "Back off! I'm not the one trying to clean up my fucking language, there's nothing wrong with my god damned expressions, so..."

Both David and Killian started to laugh between the coughs, before Killian frowned at the chaos. It was another Gold bust gone bad. What the hell happened? Gold must have known. He knew the place was swarming with cops, and, specifically, he knew where Killian and David were. _How?_

The captain of Vice, Ted Thatch, came over to them. All three men swore under their breath. Cap Thatch, or Blackbeard as they called him on account of his impressive beard, was a total dick. August hated his ass, but he was his superior officer. "Captain-"

"August, what the fuck screw up was this, and who’s responsible?"

Killian stood up to his full height and looked the Vice captain in the face. The two of them had history. When Killian first came to Storybrooke, Blackbeard had tried to get him transferred to Vice, but Nemo blocked the attempts. Then Blackbeard tried to get Killian fired. Nemo rejected those attempts as well.

"I'm the officer in charge. You have something to say, then say it to me."

David swore under his breath at the cold clipping tone of Killian's voice, while August smiled and leaned back against the E.M.T’s ambulance, ready to enjoy the show. His money was on Jones. Blackbeard was a bloated toad with ideas of grandeur, Jones was the real thing.

"Jones! I should've known! You and Nolan are a walking holocaust to Storybrooke. You wreak havoc and mayhem wherever you go.”

David piped up from where he sat, "Actually, I'm havoc..."

"...and I'd be mayhem," Killian finished.

They listened to the man splutter and bitch for a few moments before Killian was set to interrupt, but before he could, a hard, loud voice came.

"Thatch! What the hell do you think you're doing? These are my men! Mine!"

The group of them watched Captain Nemo's face take on a dark red hue as he screamed down the throat of his fellow captain. It was like watching masterful art in the making, a brilliant display of anger, profanity, and wild gesturing. Killian winced when Dak's finger pounded the other man in the chest. This rivalry started about the time Killian had shown up in Storybrooke. His cases always seemed to find a way to crossover into the Vice department, and like pissing alpha males, the two captains came to blows over it often. It only added fuel to the fire that Major Crimes had the cleanest arrest record, with Jones leading the pack.

August smiled at Dak. Damn he was good, a fine outstanding tribute to professionalism everywhere! Looking over at the team of Nolan and Jones, August frowned. "What happened Killian? I don't get it. I was watching. You and David didn't move. Nothing! There was nothing to give you away. So how did he know?"

"I don't know. It was as if he knew we were there," Killian agreed as he passed the oxygen mask back to the paramedic.

"And I want my man back!" Thatch demanded.

"You'll get your man, when I release him from duty, and not a moment before," Captain Nemo shot back.

Ignoring the two captains, Killian watched as Philip and the CSI teams came over. They would handle the recovery of all the evidence, see it into lockup, and assess the damage.

"Jones! _Son-of-a-bitch_! It had to be you! Damn, only big-balled bastards can cause such destruction and still walk away with a major bust."

"What's the good news, Philip?" Killian asked.

"The confiscated trucks had about twenty million in street grade cocaine, and it looks about another five million burned up in the warehouse. Damn, Gold took a major hit today. The man just took it up the ass!"

Killian shook his head. This was wrong. Gold just blew up five million, and walked away from another twenty. The bastard was a spook, an invisible man, and Killian couldn't explain it, but whenever he encountered Gold, he felt cold, very cold. The man was an Iceman. A cold calculating killer who had no emotions, no remorse. He walked away again, just like that! _Poof!_ He was gone! The man was becoming a legend in the crime community, the boogieman of bad guys.

"Gold still got away," Killian said with disgust.

Philip went over and patted Killian on the shoulder. "I know, but he didn't take any of us with him this time, and so we live to fight another day. You still took a huge amount of resources from him today, and the larger cities should thank us. This junk was probably heading for Portland or Boston.”

Nemo came over and looked at his detectives. They were a sorry sight, even Nolan looked like something the dog had chewed on and spit out. August just looked like... shit, deadly pale and likely to drop at any moment. But he still stood, refusing any form of medical help. Some behaviors were so ingrained.

"Head back to the station, get showered and changed before that shit seeps through your clothes," Dak instructed and watched as the new team of Nolan, Booth, and Jones walked towards David's car. "Hey, boys," Nemo shouted.

They turned to their captain.

"You did good. Real good!"

The boys were in the showers, scrubbing the powdered cocaine from their bodies. Killian could almost feel it burning on his skin, the buzzing in his ears told him some had gotten inside, but the feeling was abating. Seeing August sneaking another glance his way, Killian sighed and shook his head.

"You drop your soap near me, August, and I'll kick your ass into another time zone!" Killian warned.

"Damn, Jones. I like my boys pretty, like Nolan. Plus, I'm a pitcher, not a catcher, and you look to be the same," August teased.

"Fag!"

August just laughed at Killian. Some people had problems with sexuality, but August wasn't one of them. He happily swung both ways, but tended to stay on the straight side. Women-he liked women a lot, but after years in Vice, he was hardly a virgin with men. However, most of his experience in that area was in Boston. Maybe he would someday find a nice woman to settle down with, have hordes of screaming brats with beautiful smiles. Life in Vice was starting to pinch him in places he couldn't afford, and in the last year, his stress ulcer had erupted over three times. It was getting worse.

"I just keep wondering about your package there, Jones. How the hell do you keep that hidden in your pants? Do you lose consciousness when it's…?" That question seemed to be a standard Booth one.

"Don't make me shoot you, Booth!"

David snickered over in his corner, taking extra care to keep his skin under the water. Damn that shit burned!

Killian was standing in front of his locker in just a towel, half an ear listening to David and August talking in the showers, when Grumpy came around the corner carrying a small handful of papers. Killian swore under his breath. If another man came on to him, he was going to lose it. First Robin, now August, and, according to David, Grumpy had a crush on him. Even though he knew both Robin and August were just playing him, Killian was starting to get weary. Bloody hell, he was almost through those bloody anger management classes.

"Hey, Killian! I brought you the reports filed by the officers interviewing Professor Geppeti's family members. Thought you would want them." Leroy checked out the wide shoulders of Jones and forced himself not to let his glance wander any lower. "I heard about the bust. Wish I could've been there."

Killian looked at the man and felt bad, well somewhat bad. Okay, not really. But it was easy for Grumpy to be overlooked and ignored by the group. "Sorry Leroy, but I really needed this information. Next time, okay?"

Grumpy smiled big and moved on his feet like a huge puppy. Killian reached inside his locker putting his hand on his gun. If the man gave him a hug, he was going to shoot him. "Thanks, Jones!" Leroy wandered off happily, while Killian released a sigh of relief and took his hand off his gun.

"You’re losing your edge, Jones. What the hell is wrong with you? Being nice to Grumpy?" David laughed, his laughter getting louder and louder at the enraged look on Killian's face. In a flash of insight, David could see Killian years down the road showing pictures of his kids, gushing all over them, and hardly surprising, David could imagine a little blonde girl looking just like Emma Swan.

August chuckled under his breath at the shared insults flying between the partners. Nolan and Jones? What a team. They were mythical in their arrest record, isolated in that they didn't socialize much with others, and damn near irritating in their ability to cause mass destruction. August liked them. What many people took as isolated and standoffish, August was coming to realize was something more life hardened and cynical. Jones and Nolan were both traumatized by life, but that didn't stop them from dating and bedding most of the single female population in Storybrooke. August frowned at that thought and fingered his gun. Jones was a large man, but a bullet could take him down.

A sudden wave of nausea rocked August on his feet. He reached out and grabbed the top of his locker to steady himself. It was the piercing pain in his stomach followed by a red-hot poker feeling in his back. Almost collapsing, August could see the prick of white light behind his eyes as moisture beaded on his forehead and upper lip.

Killian turned at the sound of August's moan and quickly jumped over the low bench between the lockers to catch the man. His skin was pasty and a fine layer of sweat glimmering over it. "Gus?"

"Bathroom," August moaned, and he looked up at Killian as David grabbed him under his other arm. "Quick!" The three men rushed to the bathroom, and Killian and David watched helplessly as August lost his stomach. Killian started swearing at the sight of blood. After August washed out his mouth and stood bracing himself at the sink, he looked up in the mirror at Jones and knew it was over. Cursing, he couldn't think of anything to say to convince Killian to let it go.

"Hospital, now!" Killian bellowed.

"Killian-" August was surprised at how weak his voice sounded.

"Now, Gus. It looks like you perforated your ulcer. How much pain?" Killian brooked no argument, not now.

"Killian," August whined.

David looked at the two men facing each other in a stubborn stance.

"How much August?" Killian demanded. At that moment, August doubled over as another wave of pain and nausea hit him. Killian took his arm and David took the other. Grabbing their guns, shutting their lockers, and August’s, they headed out.

~*~

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday lovely Shipmates.   
> Well, we're almost there, two more chapters left.   
> I simply love all your comments. Getting that alert tto tell me someone has posted a comment makes me smile like crazy. I love hearing your thoughts on who you think the killer is. You guys, and your constant support are what makes all the hard work and heartache of writing so worth it. 
> 
> ilovemesomekillianjones = awesome. Need I say more. 
> 
> No chapter warning for this chapter. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy this chapter,


	14. Are We Cursed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Weekend to everyone! Hope those who celebrate had a fabulously awesome Turkey Day, and those who don't, I hope you had a spectacular Thursday.
> 
> Thanks to everyone for your support and comments. It means so much to me that you take the time to read and review this little story of mine.
> 
> Thanks to ilovemesomekillianjones for betaing this monster for me. It's always awesome working with you, chica.
> 
> So here it is, the second to last chapter. There's a lot happening in this one folks, and no cursing the author!

**Chapter 14:  Are We Cursed?**

Robin looked up from his drink. They were on a break and the crowd was noisier than usual, or maybe it was that Robin wasn't in the mood. Since Regina left he had been in a pisser of a mood. Getting involved with her was something he had tried to avoid, but there was something about the chick, something that demanded to be noticed. Robin grabbed another beer and lit another cigarette. Hell, he could swear he still had a hard-on just thinking about Regina… fucking... Nolan!

"Hey, Robin!"

Robin stopped swearing at his beer and looked up at his friend and drummer, Alan. "Yeah, is it time?"

"Naw, we've still got a few. No, Tuck-man was telling me that the cops were shaking you over your tatts."

Robin looked down at this arm and then just shrugged. "Yeah, that's about the half of it. Why?"

"Well, you know at the last huge blowout we had. The party that got raided?" Alan started, settling into the stool next to Robin.

"Yeah, the one with underage kids having an orgy in the backroom. Hard to forget."

"Well, there were a few people asking about your tattoo, that night. They saw it while we were performing and everything."

Robin sat up straighter. "What did they want to know?"

"The usual. Were you into satanic worship, did it symbolize your power? Did you know what it meant... you know, the usual."

"Remember who these peeps were?"

"No, I was totally trashed that night, but then I got these back today, and it sort of made me remember." Alan held out a package of photos developed at Dark Star Pharmacy. "I was flipping through them, and they're in a couple of the shots."

Robin swore under his breath. Great, just great! Dammit, did he look like he cared? Robin looked around and spotted Lily, a regular hanger-on, a fine lay with a clit ring.

"Hey! Lily! Give me one of those greasy makeup pencils you like to use."

Lily smiled at him and tossed him a lip liner in red. In turn, Robin passed it to Alan. "Here use this and circle the faces on the pictures."

"Man, it will ruin my pictures!"

"Bloody hell! I'll have copies made for you." Robin grabbed his phone to see if he could locate the pissy detective Jones and pretty boy Nolan. What a way to fuck up his night. Civic duty… what a crock of shit.

~*~

Two hours later, Killian and David were still waiting on news from the doctor. Killian kept looking at the phone, wanting to call Emma, to let her know everything was okay, but until he knew about August, he was reluctant to do so.

Robin found them in the waiting room. The department dispatch told him where they were. He should have just had the damn things delivered, but something made him want to hand them over personally. A part of him that insisted on being honest, despite his better nature, recognized he was hoping to hear how Regina was and if she’d made it to the clinic. He refused to pick up the phone and check with her, he’d already let her in further than he’d ever intended, and he was reluctant to give her more room.

"Detectives Cagney and Lacey?" Robin greeted them, happily keeping a nice, ugly sneer on his face as he faced the two, purposely licking his lips when he saw Killian's eyes narrow.

"Locksley! Come to confess to fashion death? Or noise pollution?" Killian bantered, not in the mood for this fucker at the moment.

"A sense of humor, Detective! Who would have guessed? No, I came to give you these." Robin pulled the pictures from the back pocket of his jeans. He was so through with this scene. If he kept acting out of character, someone was going to mistake him for a 'nice guy'.

Killian took the envelope. "What are they?"

"Pictures from a party, and if you hassle me over anything you see in any of those pictures, it will be the last time I go out of my way," Robin said sternly.

"What's so special about them?” David asked intrigued.

"One of my band members remembers a few people who were a little too interested in my tattoo, the one you were interested in. They were psycho enough to stay in his drug-clouded memory, and when he got his pictures back he recognized some of the faces,” Robin said, sitting in one of the hard, plastic chairs.

"Where is this band member? Can we talk to him?" Killian passed the pictures to David, along with the rolled report from his back pocket, the one Grumpy had given him.

"He’s not here, mate, he doesn't mix well with the legal cocks, but I had him circle the faces... any more than that I don't know." Robin stood to escape before they could question him more. This civic duty crap was not for him.

"Robin!"                                                                                                                   

Robin halted in his tracks and sighed, not even bothering to turn around at David's voice. "Yeah?"

"I heard from my sister. Regina. She made it to the clinic you arranged for her," David told him, his voice humbled. “I just wanted to say thank you. For whatever you did, thank you.”  

Robin turned to look back at the man, noticing the worry lines on his face. Nodding, Robin turned to walk away. "No problem. Just remember though, I ain’t no angel.”

David and Killian watched the man walk away. David had told Killian earlier about Regina, and both were hoping this time they would get the real Regina back, that this was finally the program that would work.

"That's funny," Killian said looking at his partner.

"What's funny?" David asked as he moved to pour them both another cup of coffee.

"I thought he looked like an angel," Killian returned deadpan.

David went to take his seat again and smiled. "Yeah, so did I."

"What is this?" David asked, passing Killian his coffee, and indicating the rolled-up report Killian had handed him earlier.

"The follow-up reports on Geppeti's family. Grumpy brought it to me."

"I thought they were going to talk to the family at the funeral tomorrow?" David questioned as he took the report out to read, but before he could, he saw the doctor approaching. "Killian. Doctor."

Both men stood to face the man in a white lab coat. "Officers? Are you with Detective Booth?"

Killian nodded, ignoring the slight on his professional title. "Aye, we brought him in. Is he okay? Is it his ulcer?"

"Yes, and no. Normally I would only discuss this with family members, but in lieu of the findings, perhaps it's best to discuss this with you. We sent Detective Booth for some tests. An endoscopy showed blood in his stomach, but his ulcer isn't bleeding. The blood is from another source. So, we pumped his stomach... he didn't appreciate the procedure." Killian could imagine August's reaction. "The initial test results came back on the stomach content. Your friend was poisoned."

"Poisoned!" David and Killian exclaimed at the same time, now on high alert.

"Well, it could be a mistake. Herbalist stores make them time to time. However, with the mixture of blood and herbals, it had to have been purposely consumed. There was a large quantity of _Datura stramonium_ in his system. We did a tox screen of his blood and urine. He might have ingested it two or three days ago according to the symptoms he reported."

"I don't understand," David said, looking at the doctor confused. "Wouldn't the stuff in his stomach empty out in two or three days?"

"Normally, yes, but atropine and anticholinergics like belladonna and others can cause an ileus which stopped his stomach from being able to empty, and his stomach lining kept absorbing more and more of the poison, slowly killing him. We treated him with physostigmine salicylate, the final run just finished. We need to keep him in for further monitoring. Until the ileus resolves, he needs to be completely NPO."

David looked at the doctor even more confused.

"Sorry, nothing by mouth. He's a very sick man."

Killian looked at David and frowned. "Can we see him?" The doctor nodded. "Doctor, what exactly is _Datura stramonium_?"

"Oh, it's a member of the nightshade family, extremely poisonous.”

David looked at Killian sharply. Nightshade and blood. The warrior's potion. Following the doctor, they entered the room of a very pale and weak August. The nurse was just removing the IV tubing, and the doctor left to see about getting August a private room on the floor.

"August, mate, you were poisoned with the-"

“Warrior's potion, dammit, I know. Hold on... just hold on a fucking minute… I need to think." August kept shaking his head trying to clear his thoughts so he could focus on when he would’ve drank the vile shit. It was hard to concentrate while also trying to keep himself from losing his stomach at the thought of drinking Tink's blood. The last stuff he drank was white wine and clear Tequila with Ruby, and she was sick, too. Where could he have gotten blood?

~*~

"Emma! Wait!" Ruby ran after Emma with Mary Margaret fast on her heels. This was insane, crazy, and suicidal! Killian Jones was going to kill them! All of them! Emma just kept on running until she reached the door that led into the Anthropology Building. Using her key, she opened it and went inside, not caring if Mary Margaret and Ruby followed. She’d listened to their arguments all the way over from her home, and in truth, she was tired of listening.

They entered the building, ran down the stairs to the basement, and followed Emma into her office. Emma paused in the doorway, almost stunned by the sight in front of her. Mary Margaret, when she reached the door, gasped at the space. Ruby looked at the two women in confusion and then the office and couldn't contain her horror. "Holy shit, your office, it's been ransacked!"

Emma just shook her head no. "No, no, this is what it normally looks like, I was just hoping something, or someone, came and worked her magic on it, but no."

She entered the office with Mary Margaret slowly following. She hadn’t noticed the office the first time she visited because she’d been so nervous, and then making that remark to Belle French, but this? This was worse than the museum office. Mary Margaret looked at Emma Swan in awe, in horror, and almost in fear. As if she were the Antichrist.

"This is the way it normally looks! Damn, no wonder the murderer couldn't find the artifact... no one could," Ruby commented as she looked around the place, trying to imagine how much work it would have taken to create this level of mess.

"The deliveries are over here, against the wall. Belle put them there when they were accidentally delivered here instead of the museum. When we first started working on the museum, Dickie, head of the mailroom kept sending everything here. But I finally convinced him to send it to the museum. This was the first time in over six months that a delivery wasn't taken to the right place."

Ruby just shook her head in wonder. Dumb blind luck. That was what it was. The one delivery that ended up here, instead of the museum. If it had gone to the museum, Sean, Geppeti, and Tink would all still be alive... if only.

"Oh no!" Emma shrieked, causing Ruby to look at her sharply. "It's not here! It has to be."

Ruby grabbed Emma by her shoulders, to calm her down. "Okay, just think... where is it? Where would it go?"

"I don't know! I'm telling you it was here the last time I was in my office. Monday. It was here Monday. I remember seeing it," Emma stated, her head swiveling almost frantically, trying to process all the shit in her office.

"Okay, so that means sometime between Monday and today someone moved it. That's three days." Ruby reasoned calmly.

Mary Margaret looked around the office, seeing papers, books, and artifacts, but no packages. "It’s pretty obvious, Ruby, that the murderer took it. Who else was looking for it? Emma hasn't been here since Tink..." Mary Margaret looked at Emma in sympathy. The young woman sat down in her chair, defeated.

"I lost it. I can't believe the fucker beat me. I just wanted to stop them from getting it, to keep from making Tink..." Emma just shook her head.

"Okay, granted the murderer is looking for this dagger, but it doesn't mean they found it… Think Emma," Ruby ordered, grabbing the arms of Emma's chair. "Think. Who else could have moved it?"

Emma just stared off into space, trying to come to terms with the lost items. _Cleo._ Emma reached for her office phone and quickly called her secretary. On the third ring, Cleo answered.

"Hello?"

"Cleo? It's Professor Swan." Emma waited and let her secretary talk and express her sorrow over the loss of Tink. "Thank you. Yes, I got the flowers. That was very kind. Look Cleo, I was wondering about the deliveries in my office-"

Emma frowned at the phone as her secretary cut her off again. Finally thanking her and apologizing for disturbing her after hours, Emma hung up. "Let's go!"

"Wait! Emma, where are we going?" Mary Margaret asked looking back at Ruby in confusion as she shut the office door behind her.

"The museum. Cleo had some students take them over to the museum yesterday. She told them to store them in the mezzanine above the cathedral floor where we've been working. She wanted to keep them separate from the other artifacts." Emma quickly raced up the front steps to the museum and searched for the correct key.

"I don't like this one little bit. Emma, we need to call someone- Killian, or someone- and let them know where we are," Mary Margaret pleaded again as she and Ruby followed Emma into the building and watched the door lock securely behind them.

Ruby caught up to Emma halfway up the stairs to the mezzanine. "Okay, okay. I know you've got to do this, but give me your keys."

"Why?" Emma looked at the two nervous women.

"I'm going into your office to call the P.D. to inform them where we are. Mary Margaret is going to go find the security guard and get someone over here. And you can go look for the artifact, but you are not to leave the mezzanine," Ruby instructed.

Emma nodded and started back up the stairs, but Ruby's hand hard on her arm stopped her.

"Do you understand, Emma?"

"Yeah, I got it, Ruby."

The three women looked at each other and split up.

~*~

Mary Margaret rushed down the hall to the second staircase that led to the formal second floor. On this floor there was a security callbox used by the night watchman to call in his location and check in. It was a direct line to campus security.

As she reached the top of the stairs, she felt a brush of coldness against her arm, and the sounds of harsh breathing behind her. Before she could turn, a hand came over her mouth and she felt the biting cut of the blade across her throat, nicking the side.

Mary Margaret could feel her life slipping away as the pressure of the blade increased and moved across her neck. She threw her weight back against her assassin, almost toppling them both down the stairs, but the dark figure moved out of the way. Mary Margaret Blanchard's body tumbled down the stairs, abruptly coming to rest in a heap with blood seeping from the laceration on her neck.

~*~

Ruby cursed as she tried to find the key in the dark. Moving quickly along the wall, trying to find a light switch, she heard loud noises coming from above where Emma was rummaging through boxes and crates, looking for the dagger. Ruby finally located a switch and turned it on. Her asthma was constricting the breath in her lungs as her body tried to compensate for the stress of running all over creation. Taking out her inhaler, Ruby took two full puffs and turned back to the task.

~*~

Emma finally spotted the elusive delivery. Picking up a crowbar, she pried the tops off the packing crates, then set it down to the side so she could use both hands to search through the boxes. Some were open, and for a second Emma was worried that they were too late. She found it in the third crate. As soon as she moved the packing straw away, Emma saw the dull, dark metal and the emblem of Eala Dhiaga, a three-pronged symbol, each line ending in a curl.

Dagger in hand, Emma moved to the railing and looked down at the marbled floor of the central cathedral area below. It seemed like such a long time since she had found Sean’s body; and since sitting downstairs, working on the collections with a combined crew, Tink, Marco, Mary Margaret, Al, Ruby, and the other graduate students. The laughter seemed trapped in the air as they teased Mary Margaret about the penis gourd, Al disrobed to their whistles, and darling, sweet Marco wandered among them, charming them with stories of worlds since past. And Tink with her roasted almonds.

If you could freeze time, decrease it to its slowest increments and view everything with a knowing eye, perhaps those moments lost or overlooked would be noticed, show you what was imprinted, but ignored. Emma stood there looking down, seeing the floor with all those ghosts happily talking. There she was, talking to Marco, helping him with his coat. He looked over her shoulder at the group assembled, and a shiver ran through his body... a shiver. It was at that moment, his eyes met the killer's and he knew he was dead, and that Emma was too close to danger. It was at that moment he dropped his passion for the story of the Elite Guard and Eala Dhiaga and understood the gravity of evil.

The sound came behind Emma, slowly mounting the stairs. Emma kept looking down, feeling her sorrow for both Marco and Tink. They had gotten in the way just like Sean. Marco, because once he knew the killer was in a position to search for the missing dagger, he had outlived his usefulness. Tink was a victim of circumstance. She held the warrior’s potion on her computer, and did not go home to Peter. Once you knew who, the why became easy.

Without turning around, Emma held her hand out to the side, with the dagger. "Is this what you've been looking for _Ruby_?”

~*~

Killian and David watched as August tried to sieve through his own scrambled thoughts, searching for the solution. Both men knew there was no way August was involved, nor was he in any way a threat to Emma. David started to scan the report given to Killian by Grumpy. It not only had the updated Geppeti information, but his requested FBI search for similar crimes in the past few months in states other than Maine. Killian quickly flipped through the photos.

August thought about the wine and tequila he and Ruby had drank on Monday night. The wine was white, and the tequila was clear. They took their dinner into his room in case Killian and Emma came home. They had sat on his bed sharing a large plate, he’d drank the wine straight from the bottle and fed Ruby from his fork. She had opened his shirt and was moving down his front, her hands in his pants... and here his memory went blank. He remembered her feeding him more wine with tequila chasers later in their evening. His wrists had been tied to the bed, and she had removed their clothes. The wine it was... rank. The tequila helped to remove the taste from his mouth, that and Ruby kissing him all over.

August remembered almost drinking the entire bottle of tequila with Ruby helping him, pouring some on his body. It was only a few hours after they had finally fallen asleep when Killian had knocked on the door. August remembered walking to the door and tripping over the empty wine bottles, grabbing the tequila to take another swig to get the vile taste out of his mouth. Wine bottles? That was wrong. There should've only been one.

She was in the party pictures, and Killian finally realized what had sparked his recognition while looking at Geppeti’s family photo earlier that day. Ruby Lucas looked enough like Professor Geppeti's youngest sister, and seeing this picture made it all come together. David's gasp drew his attention. David passed him the Geppeti family report. They had skipped Marco Geppeti's sister in the first sweep, because she had died at a young age. But she’d left behind two sons, a daughter, and a husband, Commander Lucas of the Portland P.D. He had retired to San Antonio, Texas. David passed Killian the crime report of Lucas’ murder in Texas. They’d found him over six weeks ago in his easy lounger with his neck cut and his blood drained. The walls were covered in the symbol of Eala Dhiaga, written in the commander’s own blood. Killian looked at David as he passed him two more reports. Both Ruby's brothers and their families had also been slaughtered, one brother in Ohio, and the other brother in Arizona.

The three men looked at each other.  "Emma!" Killian turned to leave the room with David rushing to follow him.

August struggled to get out of the hospital bed. David saw him and called to Killian. Both men came back and pushed August back into the bed. "Dammit, Killian let me up! That bitch is with Emma! We left her with Emma!"

"Gus, mate, we're going. You need to stay here," Killian said, his voice kind but with a hint of urgency as he tried to subdue the weak man who was surprisingly stronger than he looked physically.

"Killian!" August pleaded. They shared a look, a flash of understanding between soldiers whose duty was to protect, and the realization they might fail. Killian nodded and helped August up.

The three men rushed out of the hospital, August still trying to fasten his clothes. A nurse tried to stop them, but one look at both August and Killian sent her stepping back in silence. They hit the sirens as Killian called for backup to roll on the condo. August was in the backseat calling Emma on his cell phone, the phone was answered, but no one spoke. August cursed under his breath and looked at Killian, seeing the same lifeless look in his eyes that he knew matched his own. David increased his speed.

When they arrived at the condo, they found it empty. Killian rushed upstairs, and David checked the garage and garden, scanning the area in front of the water. August went into his bedroom and brought out the two empty wine bottles. One was the bottle of white wine that he remembered. The other was a dark bottle and looked like a red wine bottle. Turning it over, he inspected the bottom. There were bloodstains. Showing Killian the blood and then smelling the bottle, August almost threw up again.

"Where is she? August, where would Emma go?" Killian demanded, his insides rolling with dread.

August just shook his head. She should have been here. He looked back at his cell phone; she’d answered it, but never spoke. August looked at Killian. "She answered her phone, but she hasn’t spoken.”

“Trace it. We can trace the signal!" Killian stated as he grabbed the home phone and called into dispatch to have August's cell traced. His phone was an official police line, so it would be quick.

David looked at the two men, both pacing desperately. "Killian, the museum or university. Emma would go there if she found something."

The three men were out the door in a dead run, Killian pushing David away from the driver's seat. Fuck the department. They could take his badge for driving on duty without passing those damn anger management classes. They could hear the units approaching the condo, David grabbed the hand radio and ordered units to reroute to the university. David was trying to hold on for his life, his knuckles white from trying to hold himself upright as Killian took another corner without slowing. They saw the Bug parked in the Anthropology Building lot. Killian didn't even stop to try the door. He and August both kicked it in. Her office was empty. What the fuck?

The three men said at the same time, "Museum."

~*~

"Yes, that _is_ what I want."

Emma turned to see Ruby standing a few feet from her with a bloody knife in one hand and her police issued gun in the other. When she carelessly dropped it, Emma could feel her heart stopping in her throat. "Mary Margaret?"

"Oh, the irritating, perfect Mary Margaret Blanchard is not so perfect anymore," Ruby sniped.

Emma started towards Ruby in anger. "You sick fuck! What did she do to you, to anyone?"

"She was in my way!" Ruby answered, calmly raising her gun and aiming it at Emma. "Uh uh, step back, Professor. I would hate to waste your life and blood on a gunshot wound. I have plans that are more specific for you, but first we need to leave here. They'll look for you here." Ruby smiled without humor, not a trace of emotion. "That is assuming Detective Jones made it through this last bust. I really hope August is okay. He was heaps of fun."

Emma started to advance on her again, and Ruby raised the gun and shook her head no. "Why? Why Tink?" Emma demanded as she felt her cell phone vibrate in her pocket. She had turned off the ringer earlier in case Killian called and wanted to know what she was doing. Emma knew he'd have something to say about it if he knew she was rushing off to the university. Now Emma was revising her thinking. So, he was right again. Emma discreetly accepted the call, but couldn't speak.

Ruby looked almost remorseful. "Tink was a mistake. I told her, I warned her to go home. She promised. How was I to know she would still be there five hours later? I set up my date with Gus, drugged him with his own sleeping pills I took the day before. He was my alibi. I’d used him before when I took out your assistant. The scenes were too clean. Eventually Killian would have figured out that only a professional forensic expert would know how to suppress or avoid contaminating a crime scene. Marco was easy. Tink wasn't. She struggled. I almost had a full-blown asthma attack because of her.

Emma felt sick at the matter of fact detailing of how and why Ruby killed Tink. "I don't understand why,” she said. “What was so important in the research to force you to go get the hardcopies?

"The warrior's potion, of course. Marco had a list, but it was incomplete. Tink could have found a more detailed one. Do you know how many times I tried to activate the protection spell? Not even the blood of the innocent, the strong, or the evil had any effect. The armor? I wore the armor a few times... nothing! Not a damn thing!"

"Ruby, it was only a legend. Tink was a real person, so was Marco," Emma reasoned, almost with disbelief.

Ruby cackled at the name of Marco. "He was a fool, my doddering, dear old uncle with his stories of glory and strength. He said he felt the power of the site when they dug up the armor and the dagger. He talked like some kind of idiot, happy to have someone listen to him. I worked on him for an entire year to get the armor and the dagger, and when they finally approved the museum, the opportunity came. The old fool, he looked at me in the museum that day," Ruby pointed down to where she had stood. "I knew he was going to tell. He was going to betray me, and for what? A security guard?" Ruby didn't mention the others. The knowledge that eventually someone would link the cases fueled her desperation, and she knew that exposure was imminent. Ruby had been working against a timetable, and today time had run out

"So you killed him," Emma said with disdain, as she scrutinized the angry, crazed look in Ruby’s eyes, praying backup would come soon.

"Yes. I killed him. I killed them all. They were weak, lacking. Then I met you, and _everything_ changed. I wanted Jones, his blood would have been glorious! Oh, to get him to drink yours is still a great desire of mine. He's epic, almost his own legend! But I had to settle for August. Killian wouldn't let me near him for anything. August wasn't settling too much, because August is like Killian. I can see it in his eyes. They have the same look.”

"How did meeting me change everything?" Emma asked as she tried to inch towards the stairs, but Ruby refused to put her gun down.

"I was convinced that my blood was stronger than my body, that _I_ was the warrior princess, and Jones was my reincarnated Elite Guard lover, but I was wrong. It wasn't me! It was you... you're the warrior princess. What you didn't discover was that the Princess Eala Dhiaga bound the spell not with the blood of a sacrifice, but with her own blood. She cut herself and bled enough to use it, but she had to stay alive long enough to complete the potion and spell or her blood would lose her power. When I saw you together, I knew immediately, you and Jones were the Princess and the Guard reborn. I felt your life, how you could control him without a thought. For two whole years I tried to get his attention, and you, in less than twenty-four hours, had him all tied up. You know, it's Tink who made that final connection, when she got the translation back for Eala Dhiaga. I wonder, Professor Swan, how long it would have taken you to put it all together if Tink had sent that email she was writing when I killed her.”

Emma swallowed the bile threatening to rise knowing Tink had been in the process of sending her the last link before her death.

“Since you didn’t ask, I'll tell you,” Ruby continued, her voice taking on a gloating air. “Eala Dhiaga means _divine swan_ in Gaelic, the language the ancient ones would have used. So, you see, it's you, you and Killian, you are the reincarnations of the warrior princess and her elite guard lover, destined to roam the expanse of time loving and killing each other. You and Detective Jones have no future.”

Ruby suddenly snapped out of their trance like speech and approached Emma. "Give me the dagger!  I need it to finish the spell. I'll take it and your blood—" Ruby turned at the sound of a firing gun.

That was all Emma needed, Emma used Ruby’s distraction to try to tackle her once her back was turned, but Ruby was too quick in turning around, her hand shooting out and easily snatching the dagger from Emma’s grip

"Now that wasn't nice!" Ruby turned and slashed Emma across the abdomen. Pulling her close, she whispered in Emma's ear, holding her hand over her mouth. "Now be very, very quiet... it looks as if our lover has come." Ruby's hand reached for the lights.

~*~

Killian ran up the stairs to the museum. He could see the lights on inside even though the doors were locked. August looked at him and went to the right to try to find another place to get in, while David helped Killian. Finally, in desperation, Killian took out his gun, and shot the lock. He and David crashed through the door together, rushing into the area when suddenly the lights went off. Killian gestured to the sounds above, coming from the mezzanine, David nodded and took the stairs to the left as Killian went up the right side.

David almost to the top of the stairs when something slammed into him, followed by a burning pain in his left shoulder. The knife came down and took a large swipe at his left shoulder, and with a foot to his stomach, Ruby pushed him back down the stairs. David hit the banister as he went down, leaving a gash on his head and knocking him out cold.

Going over to the floor where she’d left Emma bleeding, Ruby pulled her up on her feet with the dagger in one arm across Emma's bleeding abdomen. The other hand held the revolver. Hitting the lights, Ruby turned to look at Killian as he came up the stairs on the other side. Slowly moving away from the stairs, Ruby moved herself and Emma across the mezzanine, keeping their backs to the banister of the balcony looking down into the cathedral floor.

Emma looked up in pain at Killian as he stepped up on the mezzanine floor, keeping his gun trained on Ruby. Ruby just shook her head no-no, smiling at him evilly.

"Hi, Pirate! Did you get any milk on your way home?" Emma asked, trying to stay calm. Killian glanced at Emma and in a moment of clarity, they shared a look.

"Ruby, release her, and I'll let you live." His voice was hard and emotionless, a tone Emma hadn’t heard from him before.

Ruby laughed at Killian. "Oh, I plan to live for a very long time, Jones, but I'm afraid I can't say the same for Professor Swan here. She seems to be slipping away, and that would be a tragedy, since her blood is very valuable to me," Ruby laughed. "I would love to use a combination of blood from both of you... the original pair together again. I knew she was the one from the look on your face when I crushed her hand that first day. It was almost as if I had broken your prized toy, violated her. Just one look and it was as if you had known each other over a thousand lifetimes. I need that energy. That strength.”

"And what will it get you?” Killian ground out, moving an inch closer. “We know about you. There is nowhere for you to go, and no place you can hide. They will find you—"

"True,” Ruby interrupted him, “but then again, the chase might be fun."

Killian moved toward her, trying not to look into Emma's eyes. The blood pooling on Ruby's arm already told him he was losing her. Ruby's body jumped at the sound of glass breaking on the second floor, somewhere to the right in the main building, and the sound of sirens in the night. "Sorry, can't talk anymore. Time to pay."

Emma saw Ruby's arm lift, and she screamed, as she turned to see the bullet hit Killian in his upper chest, close to his shoulder. "NO! Killian! Killian?" Emma tried to struggle free as the knife bit into her stomach even more. Killian hit the back of the wall from the force of the impact, and slowly slid down leaving a blood trail.

Killian raised his eyes and met Emma's as Ruby aimed her gun to shoot Killian again. Time stretched and elongated as Killian saw the tears in Emma's eyes, and watched them slowly run down her cheeks. Emma was crying for him. For some reason that bothered Killian more than the thought of dying. Killian saw the moment Emma noticed Ruby's arm come up, and with an unemotional click of her head to the side, Killian felt his blood run cold. Emma's eyes were stony, hard, and resolved.

"Emma! NO!" Killian struggled to get up as Emma's arm swept upward, knocking Ruby's arm wide, making her shot miss Killian. In a flash of motion, Emma's head went back, knocking solidly against Ruby's chin, and then Emma forced her weight into Ruby, propelling them both backwards. Killian watched as the two women, seemingly in slow motion, hit the banister, and Ruby went over the rail from the force of their combined weight.

Killian scrambled to his feet, ignoring the shooting pain in his shoulder, willing the nausea and threats of blackness away. He called out in horror, sprinting toward Emma as she started to go over the railing, still trapped in Ruby’s grip. He barely made it in time to reach over and grab her hand. Ruby hit the marble floor, bounced slightly, and then crumpled in a puddle of her own blood. Holding Emma tightly by the hand, Killian tried to hook his legs to the railing and pull her back to safety. He could see the blood from the slash on her abdomen draining down to cover Ruby in the precious blood she wanted so much.

"God, Emma, hold on! Don't let go. Don't let go!" Killian tried to move his left arm to help his right, but it lay worthless against his body. He was sliding over the beam with Emma. Killian turned to scream over his shoulder. "Someone help me! August! David! Anyone!" Killian turned to see Emma looking at him, with tears still in her eyes and an almost humble gentleness.

"It's okay. Just let me go," she whispered.

Killian shook his head no.

"Killian, let me go. I'm alright," she said with a sad smile. She could see the pain on his face, and if he didn't let her go, they both would die. She could feel the coldness as the blood slowly drained from her body. It was a feeling she knew well.

"If you go, we both go! So shut up and hold on." Killian heard August's voice calling him. "Up here, Gus! Hurry!"

~*~

August had to climb up to a second story access window and smash the glass, then he’d had to remove the remaining broken pane with his hands. He found Mary Margaret on his way down, and David as he ran up the stairs to the mezzanine. Spying Killian barely holding on to Emma, August raced to his side and helped Killian lift her back over the railing. The couple collapsed on the floor, and Emma observed her almost brother as he saw the cut and the blood. He took off his jacket and shirt and quickly pressed them to Emma's wound. Ripping Killian's own shirt off to staunch his wound, August tried to keep both from bleeding to death.

"Just in time, brother," Emma said weakly, her voice getting smaller and weaker. "Mary Margaret, you've got to find Mary Margaret."

"I found her! Don't worry. She's still alive. Just barely." August heard steps coming up the stairs and turned to see a battered David, bleeding from the cut across the top of his shoulder and from a gash on his head.

"August, Gus... Mary Margaret... someone must stay with her all the time, never leave her until she recovers... Killian..." Emma's voice was fading fast as she took his hand in hers and laced their fingers together.

August looked over at David and told him where to find Blanchard, to hurry. David stood there looking at the bleeding bodies of his partner and Emma, wanting to refuse to leave, but feeling the need to be with Mary Margaret, so he turned and ran down the stairs. When August looked back, Emma was already gone. She had fainted from the loss of blood and her skin was white and blue as the cold set in.

August took out his phone and called dispatch. He could hear sirens closing in, but they seemed so far away. "I need an ambulance! I've got officers down... officers down!" August dropped the phone and turned back to the couple, continuing to apply pressure on the compresses as the blood soaked through.

"Gus."

Killian waited until Gus turned his eyes on him where he lay against the banister with Emma bleeding out on him. _Oh, God, not another one, not another person to bleed to death in his arms._ With tears in his eyes and his voice rough and dry, he told August what to do. "No drugs! August, no drugs. I'm allergic." August nodded. "And Gus... if Emma doesn't make it... if she doesn't make it... use that bullet you've saved for me..."

August watched as Killian passed out, too.

"Oh God, please." August pressed harder watching helplessly as the life drained from the two, and he did something he hadn't done in years, not since he was a child. "Sweet Heart of Mary, be my salvation... Hail Mary full of grace, the Lord is with thee, blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen... Hail Mary full of grace, the Lord is with thee..."

~*~

 


	15. Journey With Me

**Chapter 15: Journey with me...**

Nemo walked out of his office and into the bullpen. Major Crimes was as quiet as a tomb. This whole murder case, with one of their own being the perpetrator, had rocked the entire department. It was late on Tuesday, only two weeks after Emma Swan had met Killian Jones for the first time, and Nemo felt he had aged a lifetime.

He remembered his surprise when Ruby was assigned to this case, since the department had tabooed her and Jones working together. Dak had just assumed it was a practical joke played on Jones, now he knew better. Ruby had waited for the call and insinuated herself into the case, so she would be in a position to look for the missing artifact freely, while keeping a watchful eye on the investigation. Dak cursed his worthless soul that he hadn’t heeded Killian's uneasy regard for Ruby. Killian had been right, and Emma was the one paying the price. They were all paying in some shape or form.

Liam was back at work, behind a desk until the doctors cleared him for active duty. He was quiet and thoughtful, given to moments of solitude. The bullpen was lacking its usual commotion with both Nolan and Jones gone. David was on medical leave, recuperating from the cut on his shoulder as well as a concussion. He was spending his days at the hospital watching over Killian, Emma, August, and Mary Margaret.

Killian had been released from the hospital the day before and David had taken him home to rest. He was still confused from the drugs; the hospital hadn’t had a choice other than to give him strong painkillers to alleviate the pain, so they could operate on his shoulder. David had volunteered his blood as a transfusion for Killian, but since he too had suffered blood loss, the hospital had refused. Once Killian had recovered enough to make it on his feet, he went AWOL. They finally found him in a chair next to Emma's bed with his head resting at her side, sound asleep. Every night he went back.

Although Emma was recovering too, she was still in the hospital, and waiting for surgical to release her to General Care. The cut across her stomach was healing nicely, but she was still on strong pain meds, and spent most of the time sleeping. When Emma was awake, Killian was surprisingly absent, but once she fell asleep, he was there.

David explained to Dak he thought Killian was feeling too out of control, lost, and guilty over Emma, and that once he figured it out, things would change. David took Killian deep sea fishing to help him relax, and after less than half a day on the water, David realized his mistake. The moment Killian left Emma's side, still asleep in her hospital bed, he couldn't rest or stop fidgeting with nervous energy. David watched his best friend become a bundle of nerves, pacing a path along the small deck of the boat, worrying what trouble Emma would get into without him watching over her.

Mary Margaret’s recovery was the hardest one to believe. Her throat had been sliced by Ruby, but Mary Margaret had saved her own life. As soon as the blade started cutting, she’d pushed backward, falling on Ruby, which kept the knife from severing her carotid artery. The cut was deep, but not deep enough to cause fatal damage. Most of Mary Margaret's injuries were from the fall down the stairs. She broke her right arm in three places, and had a concussion. August Booth stayed by her bed day and night, only leaving to briefly visit Emma and Killian. When Dak asked him why he was attending to Mary Margaret, August simply replied that he had promised Emma and God.

David would take over sitting with Mary Margaret as she slept, when August was visiting Emma. He’d talked to her, telling her about his sister and the troubles she’d had in life, talking about his family and the small farm his mother owns in Oklahoma. He also asked her if, when she woke up, she would go on another date with him, maybe a picnic in the woods that surrounded Storybrooke. He swore he felt her hand twitch in his when he asked her, though he figured it was his mind playing tricks on him, hoping that this beautiful creature had heard him and was trying to answer him.

August was released from the hospital, much to the disappointment of the entire nursing staff. He was fast charming his way from floor to floor, while he healed from his wounds. To get into the museum, August had punched his hand through a plate of tempered glass, he’d needed a hand surgeon to fix the damage. He’d also been put on a heart monitor after suffering some arrhythmia from the poisoning. Once his ileus resolved, he was shamelessly conning the nurses into ordering him greasy burgers and shakes. Dak was worried about the young man. Despite his devil-may-care attitude, he no longer laughed, not really, and his smile never met his eyes. He was brooding over Ruby and Emma.

Finally, at his wits end, Nemo tried to reach Ingrid. They needed her to come home and take care of the lot of them. No one was healing, Dak was worried about Emma the most. The young woman who once couldn't cry was suddenly unable to stop. She’d missed her friend Marco's funeral, and they had buried Tink Nevins today. Dak stopped by to see how Emma was holding up and found her holding a picture of Tink, crying her heart out. He quietly left the room, leaving her to grieve in her own way.

Looking out over the bullpen, Dak spotted August, and gestured hello to him, then yelled over to Liam. "Liam! My office. Now!"

Liam looked up from his sea of paperwork, and nodded. The only redeeming factor about being called into the Cap’s office was that he hadn't called for Grumpy, too. That would have sent Liam packing for home immediately.

"Yeah, what's up, Cap?" Liam was always careful to refrain from calling his dad anything but Cap or Captain at work.

"Liam, I’ve assigned you a new partner."

Liam felt the blood draining from his skin. _Damn,_ it was going to be official. He was going to be partnered with Grumpy for all times, and his life in Storybrooke P.D. would be a never-ending nightmare.

Dak gestured to the door behind him. "Meet your new partner."

Liam turned around to see August Booth standing in the doorway.

"Gus?" Liam looked from August to his father.

"Yeah,” August smiled. “Looks like someone pulled a couple strings and got me permanently assigned to Major Crimes. I was told they have this young detective who can't figure out how to put on his Kevlar vest, and needs some serious guidance. So, I let them talk me into the assignment."

Dak got up, pushed the two men out of his office, and then rested against the doorjamb of his office. He watched them walk away and chuckled at the easy banter between the new partners.

"Fuck off, Booth. I don't need a babysitter," Liam complained halfheartedly. He was over the moon it was August and not Grumpy.

"Sure you don't, Sweetpea, but seeing how I expect you to get my coffee every morning you should know, I like two sugars and no cream."

"I'm not getting your coffee-"

"Hey, everyone knows that the senior partner is waited on hand and foot-"

"You're not the senior partner!"

"I saw your target scores. You suck!"

"Do not! I bet my obstacle course times beat your liquored-up, smoking ass..."

Dak smiled and left his newest detective team of Nemo and Booth to work their way into an easy partnership. Things could get very competitive between his major teams of Nolan/Jones and Nemo/Booth. It was going to be interesting. Before Dak could return to work, one of the unit secretaries approached him listening to a headphone unit.

"Captain! I have a Sheriff in Medicine Park, Oklahoma who is holding a woman claiming to be your fiancée. He says that if she's not yours then he is turning her over to the Fort Sill Military Police for trespassing on Federal Lands. Just a second..." Barb paused and listened to the person on the other end of the phone. "Sir, they said that she chained herself to a mountain on Refuge Land and was protesting the loss of an endangered bird's nesting grounds. There is talk about starting a full riot, guns were involved, and armed military!"

“Oh, shit!” Dak cursed aloud and rushed to his office phone. _They had found her_. "Ingrid? Sweetheart?"

~*~

"You should call her."

"Not talking to you about it, David, so piss off," Killian mumbled, continuing to look outside at the darkness. The fishing trip had been worthless. He didn’t feel comfortable in his own skin, let alone in the middle of the open water, so they came home. Every night since they got home, and after the hospital released Emma, he sat staring at the phone. When the urge to call was so great, he dialed her number just to hear her voice when she picked up the phone, and then he quickly disconnected.

"You're not responsible for what happened, Killian. Emma was the one who took off to the university, even though she knew it was stupid. She knew you wouldn't be happy. It's not your fault that-"

"That Ruby Lucas was a sick, sadistic bitch who wanted to destroy everything in my life, and in the process, took out most of Emma's? Bloody Hell, David, she cut her! That bitch _cut_ Emma! Hasn't she been tortured enough, and does it always have to be a knife?" Killian got up and started pacing angrily. "I thought she had died in my arms."

"Killian..." David never finished as he watched Killian leave the room and shut his bedroom door behind him.

~*~

August stood at the door, looking out to the small garden where Emma sat. After two weeks in the hospital, Emma had spent this last week at home recovering. The physical recovery was almost done, but emotionally and mentally, Emma wasn't doing so well. Yesterday August tried to convince Emma to go work on Killian's car, but she’d been disinterested. Emma's old methods of coping were no longer working. All she seemed able to do was cry.

Earlier that day, August had found Emma missing. When he finally tracked her down, she was sitting beside Tink's grave. He let her be alone, but her self-imposed confinement from life was starting to bother him. Emma seemed heartbroken. August was afraid once she finally worked her way through it, she’d be forever surrounded by impenetrable walls, that not even Killian Jones could break through.

"How is she doing?"

August just shook his head, but didn't bother to look at Ingrid. Guilt. It was nagging him. His place was to protect his family, Emma and Ingrid, and somehow, he had failed again. With Emma, it seemed he was destined to fail.

"You're letting this eat at you too much, August. You weren't her only protector. Sometimes things happen, and it's no one's fault. Accept that, and move on before that time bomb stomach of yours takes you out," Ingrid said softly, pulling her tall foster son into her arms, and hugging him tight. It took a few moments before he finally let himself relax in her arms. Even as a child, he’d tried to keep people from getting too close, but somehow, he couldn't resist Ingrid. She was the only mother he’d ever known, since his own mother was an unknown entity.  

Ingrid hugged him tight and kissed his cheek, feeling the moisture on it. August had so many sore spots, places that hurt him, that he tried to ignore. Ingrid wished she could take his pain, but knew that was a job reserved for a special person in his life, once he found her. Looking over his shoulder at her foster daughter, Ingrid knew Emma had already found that person for herself, but he was missing in action, off kicking himself with the guilt of letting anything touch her. It was time to move forward. Ingrid pulled away from August and cleared her throat. "Gus, I have an errand I need you to run. It is an important one that only you can do."

August looked at Ingrid in suspicion, she was up to something. "What is it?"

Ingrid pointed over to a box on the dining room table. "I need you to deliver that box for me."

August walked over and looked down at a box of Killian's stuff. His P.D. sweatshirt and shaving kit were on top. Looking at Ingrid sharply, August frowned. "Does Emma know you packed up Killian's stuff? That you're sending them back to him?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Ingrid moved away from the glass door and started moving around the room, pretending to pick up stuff and clean. "Oh, I also put Drake’s card in the box. Tell him that his car will be delivered to Drake's garage, and Drake will restore it to the condition he brought it to Emma... running."

"Okay, Ingrid, what are you doing?" August asked with a raised brow.

"Nothing,” she answered innocently. “I'm just reverting both Killian and Emma to their lives before they met. The best part of being a couple is learning to survive with the other person at your side. They are both cloistered away trying to heal alone, and the longer they do it, the farther apart they grow. I'm just surgically cutting them out of each other's life sooner rather than later."

"Ingrid..."

"Don't _Ingrid_ me! My little girl is crying! Crying! She hasn't cried in almost twenty years and that man... that _cop_ made her cry! He got so close to her, so deep inside, that the pain of losing him, watching him die was so great she would’ve rather died herself than live without him. She never cried a tear when Neal sliced off pieces of her boyfriend's body and laid them at her feet. But seeing Killian get shot, watching him bleed out, and the fear of that evil bitch finishing the job, it broke her. It was enough to make Emma do what she vowed never to do. She cried."

"The guilt is-"

"I don't want to hear it!” Ingrid interrupted. “You understand him better than we do, but that doesn't make it right. People think that Emma is strong, that she learned to survive and has a strong will. They're wrong. What she has is the understanding that carrying all the pain inside for years does no good, because in the end you're exactly where you started. _Letting go_ is her strength. You’ve had a harder time letting the past go than the rest of us. Well, I woke up one day, and my daughter was in love with a _cop_!"

August winced when Ingrid spit out the word.

"I never wanted that,” she continued, “but things happen. People grow up. So, I am severing the connection, and I need you to deliver the message." Ingrid pointed at the box hoping that August would understand the message, the one not just aimed at Killian, but at him.               

"Now be a good boy, and do this one thing for your mother." Ingrid swept up her jacket and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" August asked, looking at Emma, not wanting to leave her alone.

"I'm going to see my fiancée. He's been so strong through all this tragedy, so I am going to administer him some tender loving care. I understand there is an interesting rumor going around the department about my daughter and Killian in an interrogation room. I think I'll go see if Dak wants to give the locals something more to talk about." Opening the front door, she paused to looked at August. "Go, do as I ask. Emma is okay alone," Ingrid assured her son, then she left.

~*~

Killian resigned himself to another bout of David’s good-hearted conversation as the knocking on his door refused to stop. Only David could be that stubborn about invading Killian's privacy. He opened the door reluctantly, and was shocked to see August Booth on his doorstep.

August pushed the box into Killian's hands and let himself in, heading straight for the stash of rum. _Damn!_ The whole place was dark and lifeless. Opening the freezer, August was glad to see the ice trays were still there. At least some things stayed constant.

"August? What is this?"  Killian asked, confused.

August took a drink and winced a little as the liquid burned fire down his throat. "The shit that you left at Emma's."

Killian looked down, seeing his shaving kit on top. "I guess you really missed shaving, huh?" August scrutinized the man in front of him, his scruff was overgrown and dangerously close to becoming a beard. He looked like crap, and that was being nice.

"Did Emma ask you to bring this over? She packed up my stuff?" Killian felt cold and empty. Emma was giving up on him, and Emma didn't give up on anything, and that hurt.

"No, actually it was Ingrid. She asked me to tell you that she would have your car restored to the condition it was in when you took it over to Emma's." August waited to see how Killian took it, if he was just going to let Ingrid toss him out of Emma's life.

"What did... Emma have to say about this?" Killian probed, his eyes everywhere but on his unexpected visitor. August noticed Killian's pause at Emma's name. Killian just looked down and kept his voice low. "Does she want me out of her life, too?"

"Don't know. Emma hasn't said much of anything. She's not coping very well at all. Hardly speaks, pretty much only cries."

Killian looked up sharply, drawing in his breath. "She's crying?"

"Now that she’s started, it doesn't seem like she's able to stop. I don't get it, Jones. You're here looking like shit, she’s over there looking just as bad, so why? Don't you love her?" August poured himself another drink.

Killian looked over at the man. "You shouldn't be drinking," he answered; eluding the question seemed the best way to go.

"Yeah, thanks for the advice, mommy. Fuck off! I have enough mothering in my life right now. Ingrid’s home and I can barely get up in the morning without her poking and prodding me, or threatening to take my temperature. I have to go to work and fight with Liam just to feel better." August downed the shot of rum in one gulp. "The damn Learning Channel is killing me. Damn, I hate cable! She asked me the other day if I wore tight briefs, and then later I found her sorting through my drawer removing all the stuff she deems too tight. Guess she is worried about diminishing my package and the safety of my _future children_."

Killian laughed at that. Ingrid Arden was nothing if not interesting. Just like...

"You didn't answer my question," August noted, watching Killian trying to avoid him. "That's okay, maybe you don't love her. I mean, how could you? You left her all alone in the hospital, barely saying a word to her. No, that's right. You actually didn't even say a word. Perhaps Ingrid is right. Getting all evidence of you out of Emma's life is the best strategy, so when she finally processes everything, learns to move on and comes back to us, you'll just be a faded memory."

August headed for the door, giving up. Killian and Emma were the most stubborn people around. If they couldn't navigate their way through this shit together, then who was he to demand they try? Nevertheless, August couldn't let it go.

"Just, when you’re through wallowing in guilt..." August started, then smiled inwardly when Killian snapped his head to look at him. _Bingo!_

It wasn't that August didn't already know where Killian was living, the hell that haunted him. He and Jones were too much alike in that regard, but Ingrid was right. Surviving was never just about overcoming, as much as accepting and moving on. "Just ask yourself,” August continued, “where do you plan to be in ten years? Do you still see yourself alone in this apartment living in guilt? Or, do you see a future for yourself, one with children, a wife, and a life? When you see that family, when you look into the faces of your children, who do you see? If it's not Emma, then maybe I read the two of you wrong, because I could have sworn you were the real thing. If it’s Emma's face you see when you imagine your daughter, then why are you letting her go? Why are you so determined to throw it away? Do you really think love comes easy to people like you and me? Hell, do you think the masses even find a love like you and Emma have found with each other?"

Killian watched August walking away, and for the first time in a long time, he felt afraid. Real, gripping fear, beyond what he felt as Ruby cut Emma, more than when he held her life above the cathedral floor with one hand, as he felt her bleeding to death in his arms. He felt the fear that it was over, finished, and somehow he wouldn't be able to take it back. How the hell was he supposed to know where they were going, but he knew where he was now, and he hated it.

"August... wait."

August turned at the door silently hoping he could make a difference. Would this be where he’d succeed in helping Emma? Maybe he wasn’t destined to fail her after all.

"Where are you going?" Killian asked. He moved to pour August another drink, then set the bottle next to the glass. Reaching into a bowl on the countertop, Killian took his house key off the ring and set it next to the drink. Picking up the box of stuff August had brought back to him, he headed to the door.

August smiled and looked around the apartment. Yeah, he could definitely call this place home. "Piece of advice?" He waited for Killian to stop and look at him. "Go take a goddamn shower and trim that beard first, you look like shit!"

Killian chuckled at that, shoving the box into August's hands, he reached in, and took his shaving kit. On his way to the bathroom, he looked back at August. "Don't get too comfortable with all my stuff. The only things staying are the ice trays."

~*~

Emma sat out in her garden, numb to the world around her. She saw nothing, was oblivious to the pleasant breeze, and the calming scent of the ocean; she didn’t even notice how Mr. Booboo sat dutifully by her side, watching over her worriedly. With her knees drawn up to her chin, she hugged her legs tightly, as another wave of anguish and hopelessness crashed into her. All the people she’d lost... the birth parents she’d never known, the adoptive parents who didn’t want her after conceiving a child, her boyfriend, Marco, Tink, Killian, and even herself. A lifetime of loss and regret finally gave way to mourning, and Emma felt different. It was as if everything she knew or understood about herself was gone. Somehow, she had lost touch with reality. Her reality.

For as long as she could remember, Emma had felt afflicted, as if she’d been born cursed or forsaken. Even though his were not the first or last wounds she would experience in her lifetime, it was hard to remember the first time Neal had hurt her. As time stretched back as far as her memory would go, she was chilled to the bone by the feeling that somehow she had been born into abuse. Did she exist merely to suffer, to be a _forgotten one_? Years of survival and love from her family and friends couldn’t take away those early lessons. Killian left because there was darkness in her, a place that never saw sunlight. In that one moment, before she’d accepted her own death to save Killian, she prayed to God to give her strength to save him. Losing him must have been part of the agreement, in return for Killian’s life, she couldn’t have him in hers. She’d made the deal and now must keep it.

 _Tink._ She was the one that made no sense. Marco had made his own pact with the devil, and Killian was retribution, but Tink’s death served no purpose. Tink was lost for all time, in a wave of senseless violence. It wasn't just the injustice that stuck in her throat, but the waste. Emma rested her head on her knees and wept more tears. Tears because she had only one life to trade, and although she didn’t regret giving it up for Killian, she was devastated that the chance to save Tink had never come.

"You're going to make yourself sick crying so much, love," Killian said softly from the doorway.

"What are you doing here?" Emma didn't even lift her head. She had gone to catechism. Emma knew that the devil could appear in many forms, and it seemed appropriate that he would come now as Killian Jones. "Don't you have some other soul to steal?"

Killian frowned at her question. _What the hell does that mean?_ "Stealing is a crime, Professor. And where the hell else should I be?"

_He was real?_

"Not here. I cry because I can. I do it freely, because Tink deserved that much." Emma looked up at him. "I already cried all the tears I can for you, so just let me mourn a little longer, and then I'll be through."

Killian moved forward, rearranging a chair so he could sit down close to her. "Do you want me to leave? Is that what you want, Emma?"

"I _never_ wanted you to leave. Then again, I didn’t try to keep you. I wanted it to be your choice. Freedom is the right to make the choice," Emma said, looking at her hands, feeling their ineffectiveness. “Did you know that freedom is the right to be wrong, not the right to _do_ wrong? I’ve been sitting here trying to remember when I first did wrong.”

Killian looked across the garden at the stone urns full of plants, and the glistening water beyond. "You didn’t do wrong, Emma, and I didn't leave... not really. I just needed to think." He picked up her hand. "At first I was confused by the drugs they gave me. I thought you were dead, that you’d died in my arms like the others. Every night I sat at your bedside hoping you would wake and live, but I was scared to hear your voice. I was afraid you would tell me I failed you, that you’d died and it was my fault. The dreams came back. The nightmares of when I’d failed before, and too many were lost, too many to tolerate or even count."

"Are you still having dreams?" Emma asked, peeking over at him, saddened by his dark, tired face.

"Aye." Killian squeezed her hand in his. "Not the same nightmares though, just you. I dream about you."

Emma laughed. "A new kind of nightmare, huh? Poor Detective, was I more than you expected, more than you can handle?" She couldn’t stop the half smirk that graced her face.

"No." Killian reached over and forced her to look at him. "More than I deserve. You are so much more than I could have dreamed or imagined."

Emma’s heart raced at his words. Reaching up, she gently swept the hair from his eyes. "Did you bring me a present? Something to get back into my good graces?"

"Aye. I brought you a present," Killian smiled, watching the small upturn at the corner of her mouth.

"What is it? Box of chocolates, flowers, or maybe something _leather_?"

Killian stood and moved to stand in front of her. He held out his hand and waited for her to take it. Leading her back into the condo, Killian pointed to a small stack of ice trays on her kitchen bar. "I thought we should make everything even, immediately."

Emma turned toward him and laughed; wrapping her arms around his neck she kissed him passionately. Killian felt a relief overwhelm him, a sense of peace calming him for the first time in days, and he lifted her off her feet, squeezing her tight. Her little yelp had him putting her back on the ground quickly. "Bloody hell! Did I hurt you?"

"No! No, I'm fine. All healed!” Emma moved in close and whispered seductively, “Do you want to see my scar, Detective? I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours." Killian kissed her again, and then rested his forehead against hers for a moment before rubbing his face in her hair. "Although they aren’t traditional, the ice trays, they are perfect."

"I thought you'd like them," Killian smiled as he led her to the sofa to sit down together. "I never made you any promises-"

"No, you didn't,” she cut him off, “I didn't make you any either, and I also didn't ask for any."

"No, we've been very careful about that. But I think things need to change." Killian took her small hand in his and kissed the back of it. "So I'll start, love. I promise you that my life will become very busy at times, that I'll have cases that will consume me and cause me to ignore you. I promise at times my life will become so hectic and vile that I'll take it out on you unfairly, and at times you'll swear that you hate me. I also promise that I will always remember your name, Emma Swan. If you believe in me, I promise that I will not let you down. I also promise that if you ever need me, all you've got to do is pick up the phone and call me, and no matter where I am, or what I'm doing, I will come to you."

Emma leaned into him and kissed him softly and then not so softly. Pulling back, she looked in his eyes and recognized what he was trying to say.

"Okay. I can do that, too. I promise that at times my life will become busy, and that I'll ignore you. I promise that my problems with school, my dissertation, and my mom will drive you to the very edge. I can promise that even though you are tied up in a difficult case, that won't stop me from tying you up in other ways-" Killian laughed when Emma lifted her brow suggestively. "I promise to keep you oversexed as a means of stress relief for both of us. I promise to drive you to the point of distraction and rage as I interfere in your cases, and at times you will swear you almost hate me. I also promise to always remember your name, Killian Jones, and to use it often, and in vain." Emma kissed him hard, sucking his lip into her mouth and nipping it. "I also promise, that if you need me, ever need me, no matter when or where, all you have to do is call, and I will come to you."

Killian cleared his throat, and looked at her seriously. "Shake on that, Professor?"

"No, not a handshake," Emma said as she moved into his lap, straddling his hips and moving her hands to frame his face, before continuing, “a kiss instead.” Then she took his mouth in a deep kiss, rubbing her tongue softly against his, she slowly pulled back and sucked his tongue into her mouth, enjoying the taste and sensation of him. "I missed you terribly," she whispered, pain coloring her tone.

"I missed you, too. I've never missed anyone before, except my brother. I kept calling you all week, just to hear your voice."

Emma pulled back. "That was you? Why didn't you say anything?"

"I wanted to, but the guilt of letting Ruby into your life-"

"Shh, never again. She's gone, and I won't let her come between us."

"Okay." Killian could accept that. And even though he understood what August, or maybe it had been Ingrid Arden, was saying about guilt, he knew it would be a long time before he trusted her life with another. He was going to practice letting go of things that were beyond his power to change. Killian didn't know how much damage Ruby had done to their connection, but he needed to know. "Do you still feel me?"

Emma nodded against his body as her hands moved down his shirt unbuttoning it. "I never stopped. When I thought you were lost to me, I thought that God left the connection to punish me, to let me feel you and know I could never have you."

"Bloody hell, Emma! You aren't cursed or forsaken. What can I say or do to convince you otherwise?"

Emma shrugged. It would take more than a few words, a few kisses, and promises to take away a lifelong belief. Killian had time, and that was how he knew she wasn't cursed. Because time was something they had, and before he hadn't been sure.

"Maybe someday you will. But I make no promises," she conceded.

"Fair enough. But promise me if ever there is a time or circumstance where you finally feel... graced, you will tell me."

"I promise."

"Absolutely promise me, Professor..." Killian held her head against his chest and moaned when he felt the flick of her tongue on his skin.

"I do solemnly swear, Detective..." Emma pulled his nipple into her mouth sucking hard on the skin around it, liking the sensation of his skin along the roof of her mouth. She could feel his heart speeding up to match her own. "Are we through talking for now, Detective? Can we..."

"Fuck?" Killian asked, looking down at her blonde head against his chest, his fingers caressing her beautiful soft hair. Emma looked up at him, snaked her arms around his neck, then bent Killian's head down to kiss her.

Everything began to spiral, lips pressed together hungrily, hands scrabbled at each other's shirts, fabric ripped, and buttons protested before giving way. Killian scooted them both to the floor, laying Emma down beneath him, then he bent over her to kiss her nipples while lovingly caressing her frame with both hands. He rubbed his face into the soft skin of her body, and worked off her worn jeans. Emma’s little noises of pleasure had Killian lost and found at the same time.

Once she was naked, Emma rolled Killian onto his back so she was on top of him, then pulled him into another bruising, frenzied kiss. Killian reached into Emma's hair with one hand, while trying to pull off his pants with the other. It took too damn much concentration and motor coordination, but he finally pushed them to his ankles and kicked them off. Grabbing a warm handful of Emma's ass, he pulled her pelvis down hard against his, making her moan loudly.

“Do we need to talk about what Ruby told you?” Killian murmured in a low growling moan.

“Yes! But not now.” Emma bit his shoulder hard and Killian flipped her over again.

Pinning Emma beneath him, he bent to her throat and sucked furiously. “Killian… now, I can’t wait. Now! I need...” Emma begged in a pleading demand, and Killian growled.

This time he was going to leave a mark. He had left her alone too long. Threatened everything that they were or would be. Emma… she was like a song burning in his blood… the sound of war pipes blaring. She raised her legs and wrapped them around Killian's waist, rubbing wantonly against him.

The action got Killian's attention. “I love you, Emma. God, I can’t…”

Emma stopped his words, ravishing his mouth with hers, taking his breath. She didn’t need the words. She just needed him.

And then Killian stopped. He looked at Emma, who was lying on her back under him, hair spread around her head. Her nipples, red and peaked, rose and fell with her heavy breathing, as her lower body pushed against his, straining, dripping, legs spread wide under the firm pressure of Killian's fingers. He heard the deafening sound of his own harsh breathing, as he stood up with her in his arms and headed for the stairs quickly. He wasn’t going to make it. He tripped a little going up the stairs in the dimly lit space, and Emma giggled until he pinched her ass in punishment. Her pouting mouth was too much to resist, so he kissed her again.

Killian groaned with the feel of her tongue in his mouth, he’d missed the sensation, and the pleasure of it. Finally, he made it to their bed and playfully tossed Emma onto it. Looking at her splayed before him through heavily lidded eyes, he brought his fingers to her opening. Tilting her hips up, Killian gently inserted a finger into her tight, impossibly hot, passage and moved it in and out. Emma clenched one hand and grabbed his wrist with the other, encouraging him to move faster, harder, deeper. She opened her legs wider to give Killian better access as he ran his finger over that sensitive nub of nerve endings, making her hips buck uncontrollably. Putting a firm hand on her abdomen, holding her down, he then inserted another finger into her as he sucked her tongue into his mouth again.

“Oh Jesus, Emma,” Killian moaned into her.

Emma gasped as she reached down to grasp his cock. Killian pushed himself hard into her hand as he worked his fingers in and out of her. His head moved down to her breasts so he could worship them, his tongue stroked Emma’s nipple with a steady, solid pressure, before catching the sensitive swollen nub between his teeth. Emma whimpered, overwhelmed by the pleasure he was lavishing on her body.

"Professor," murmured Killian softly, "you're beautiful... you're so beautiful... you have no idea." Knowing how sensitive Emma’s breasts always were, he sucked her nipple fully into the heat of his mouth while increasing the speed of his strokes in her. "I love you, I want you, always want you."

Emma tensed beneath him and he knew she was close. He added a third finger, and stroked her even faster. "You were made for me, Emma," he said raggedly, "made for me, and you're mine. Come for me," he said quietly, and then he pulled out of her suddenly, bent his head, and softly, but deeply kissed where his fingers had been. Emma spasmed furiously, and came as he lapped at her reverently.

Sitting up to look at her again, Killian ran his hands along the underside of Emma's thighs, over her hips, and felt her muscles trembling seductively beneath him. He ran lingering fingers over Emma's abdomen, and then began lubricating his cock with her release, as he moved his length back and forth at her opening, wetting himself before entering. Heart pounding, Killian knelt between Emma's legs and pulled her hips up into his lap. He positioned his cock at the entrance to her body and pressed forward gently.

For a moment, he worried that he hadn't opened her enough, hadn't prepared her well enough. She was so small in comparison to his body, but then, slowly he was sliding into her beautiful, welcoming body. Killian exhaled a long breath and looked into her eyes. His heart skipped a beat when the green fire of passion and heat in Emma’s eyes stared into him, seeing so much.

_The clang of steel blades reverberated around her, and she inhaled deeply, the scent of wildflowers and death assaulted her senses. She saw him then, the parts of his body not encased in gleaming armor glistened with sweat, and his muscles rolled under taut skin as he moved. The sky was a wet cement gray, a storm threatening, and she had a sense of urgency, knowing the incoming rain would change the tide of the battle._

Then the scene changed.

_Firelight flickered against stone, barely lighting the dark cave, and his body was still gleaming with sweat. But this time it wasn’t through the exertion of battle. He was moving above her and she felt nothing but pleasure of having him, feeling him, loving him, knowing she could live like this, with him, for the rest of her natural life, and beyond. And she knew._

In that moment Emma knew. Knew without a doubt that Ruby’s ramblings held truth. She was destined to be with this man in every lifetime. Their love echoing through time, their souls forever intertwined. Killian smiled at her and their gazes locked, and the moment was impossibly long and incredibly perfect, and then finally, they were, blissfully united.

Then Killian was moving. Snapping into action, he buried himself deep in her body. Killian Jones completely, totally, and utterly lost control. He thrust into her hard, and Emma urged him on with her body and her words as Killian rhythmically slid in and out of her with long, furious strokes. When he would have faltered, pulled back in exhaustion, Emma demanded more, her mouth found exposed skin and she bit him hard, several drops of his life’s blood flowed into her mouth. He closed his eyes and felt her body contract around him.

_He could see her, her blonde hair wild as it whipped around her body in the beginnings of the oncoming storm. Her body was cloaked in leather, its red color deep and rich. Her legs were bare, tanned by the sun and he knew, she was the one he’d been searching for. She fought hard against him, blocking his blade with an ease he found captivating._

_Then she was beneath him, moving with him as her slim fingers clutched at his biceps. She felt like heaven around him, her heat searing and branding him as hers and hers alone. The firelight made her body shine and he couldn’t believe this goddess was his to have, to take when he wanted, to love for an eternity.  And he knew._

In that moment Killian knew. Knew without a doubt that Ruby’s ramblings held truth. He was destined to be with this woman in every lifetime. Their love echoing through time, their souls forever tangled.

And it began, in his spine. He was coming and Emma was coming and the world spun and he held onto her warm body as he fell.

Killian looked down at her beautiful face, he saw the sadness still marring her eyes, but the acceptance she was slowly coming to feel as well. Despite the rich love they both felt and despite the fact he’d bared his soul to her, he knew it was too soon for the words _I love you_ to fall from her lips. Even with the deeper understanding they now had, she still needed time, normal time, away from the world, free from violence and pain, to really accept that this was more.

For some reason, maybe because Killian had given into his feelings for her long before she had, or maybe because her walls were so insurmountable at first, he needed more. He needed some sort of reassurance that he wasn't risking his heart alone.

"Emma?"

"Hmmm?" she hummed as she moved her mouth down his body in sucking kisses, occasionally testing the skin with a small bite.

"Can I drive the GTO?" Killian held his breath, not even daring to hope.

"Don't be silly! Of course not!"

Killian felt his heart fall at her words.

Suddenly she sat up, sliding out from under him, and then with a gesture of irritated acceptance, she yielded, "Oh, fine! You can drive the damn GTO!" Emma's eyes narrowed at the sudden glee crossing his face, the lightening of his appearance. "But there are rules, Pirate!"

Laughing, Killian pulled her back down under him and blew large raspberries on her neck until she was squirming uncontrollably and laughing aloud while demanding he stop.

"Journey with me, Detective?” Emma asked, her voice low and sensual and her green eyes seemingly looking into his soul through his strikingly blue ones.

“Always, Professor,” was his simple reply.

Together, they could live forever, trapped timelessly in each other.

 

~*~

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that’s it, the end of Echoing Souls. Or is it? Of course not!
> 
> I can almost hear you all cry out in rage that you have not received all the answers you expected in this final chapter, but fear not, that was completely planned. I am returning to this verse next year so our intrepid heroes can explore their past lives and we can find out how they are all connected. 
> 
> Thank you for taking this journey with me, for giving me constant support, awesome comments and tons of kudos. I hope we meet up again soon. 
> 
> This whole story would not be what it is without the never-ending brain-storming, relentless beta-ing, and whole encouragement from my beta ilovemesomekillianjones. She always makes time to do last minute edits and listen to me ranting about something. So, my lovely shipmate, this whole thing is dedicated to you. You are truly awesome, and I can’t wait to really get into our next round of editing. Thanks, Chica. 
> 
> Until next year…


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